


i'm in trouble (oh i'm in trouble)

by hxt_pxckts



Series: this is (y)our drama [1]
Category: My Engineer (TV)
Genre: (it's kinda canon compliant and then halfway there it just isn't), (we all know who it's between), Canon Divergent, Denial of Feelings, Feelings Realization, Fist Fights, Fluff and Angst, Infidelity, M/M, Slow Burn, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, but tbh who wouldn't be, king is so whipped, some beta so we only kinda die y'know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:02:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 80,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24388618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hxt_pxckts/pseuds/hxt_pxckts
Summary: “You aren’t too bad yourself, you know.”It’s quiet but in perfect Thai.Before he can say anything else, Cool Boy has already departed.Oh. He’s a fool. A very big fool.---alternatively, where king takes interest in the new bus rider (even if he's probably going to kill his best friend) and learns not to judge a book by its cover[somewhat abides by the regular universe, but detours have been spontaneously taken and factors added.]
Relationships: Bohn/Duen (My Engineer), King/Ram (My Engineer), Mek/Boss (My Engineer), Minor or Background Relationship(s), Phu/Tee (My Engineer)
Series: this is (y)our drama [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1766986
Comments: 180
Kudos: 308





	1. look carefully; don't miss out on me

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from [i'm in trouble by nu'est](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Lm9u-iXrDc) because i'm basic

King has his head against the window as the bus pulls up to another stop, an AirPod pressed comfortably into one of his ears. To his left, his dearest (while admittedly at times most irritating) friend Bohn, gushes about some medical student that he saved from a lizard, and how he roped him into giving him a rose every day for a month. Honestly the whole thing feels so fictional, that he doesn’t bother listening. He nods politely at his words in an attempt to feign attention.

Bohn very much doesn’t buy it and slaps King’s arm. The gesture forces King to sit up and defend himself.

As he turns to look at his friend, something, well actually someone, catches his eye.

An unfamiliar, but oh wow, really attractive guy, walks onto the bus. He doesn’t look Thai, but it isn’t the only thing that catches what seems to be not just King’s attention. The aura he emanates simply attracts everyone. His dark hair is cleanly styled, and a dreamcatcher tattoo is inked below his left ear. Many of the passengers look towards the newcomer. However, a steely expression graces his strong features and repels anyone from approaching him. 

Most importantly, to King at least, he’s wearing the same uniform as other juniors at his university. His eyes are the last to leave the newcomer; they follow him even after he’s passed by his row. 

He has definitely never seen him before. He wouldn’t forget someone like that.

Another slap to his arm grounds him. He shoots what he hopes are very sharp and harmful daggers to his friend. They seem to be the equivalent of feathers because Bohn doesn’t waver.

“Did you see that guy?” King can’t help but mull, “He’s so pretty.”

Bohn squints at him. “Not as pretty as Duen.”

King rolls his eyes. He begs to disagree. Sure, he hasn’t really met this Duen guy but, a voice in his mind tells him that Bohn’s wrong.

So he says that. It earns him another slap unfortunately.

“Listen to me,” Bohn childishly whines

He begrudgingly does until they arrive at their school. 

When the reach their customary table, Mek and Boss are already coddled up next to each other. The latter seems to be begging his “husband” to assist him with something. Tee is rushing to finish up his homework for his next class. King can’t help but crane his neck over to look at the worksheet.

“You used the wrong formula here,” he points out, “and there’s a computational error over there.”

Tee lets out a huff of frustration, but thanks him nonetheless. King starts to essentially dictate what to write on the page, not wanting his friend to lose any points in the class.

“Oooo, and who do we have here?”

King turns to look towards Boss, who is staring at Bohn. In front of his friend is an admittedly adorable guy, who he can only presume is Duen. The young man looks somewhat afraid. His dark, slightly curled hair is swept to one side. His features are soft and sweet, attractive in a very delicate way. A lab coat rests over his arm, blatantly decreeing his program. He timidly holds a red rose out to Bohn. 

His friend takes it with a smile. He pats the younger’s head adoringly.

“This is Duen,” Bohn introduces to the rest of his friend group. Then he promptly wraps an arm around King. “This is King. The one frantically writing is Tee.” The said boy raises his free hand in a somewhat polite wave. While Bohn introduces the married couple, he turns to King and gestures for him to continue. Only after forcing the other to buy him lunch, does he resume explaining the answers to the questions. As Tee finalizes his answers, Boss announces that it’s time for class.

Bohn waves a small goodbye to Duen and the five seniors are off. 

King matches his pace with Bohn. He can’t help but tell him that he’s definitely wrong. Sure, the medical student is cute, but the boy on the bus definitely registers higher on the attractiveness scale.

Throughout the day, he can’t help but keep one eye peeled open, hoping to maybe catch another glance of him.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t.

From that day on, Cool Boy (yes, King knows he’s very creative) steps onto the bus every day, and King can’t help but watch him. At some point, complaints have started coming from Bohn and not King. Part of him wants to ask the junior what faculty he’s in, if he can maybe get his number, and most ideally go out on a date. But also King is so sure that he doesn’t even speak Thai.

One day someone, a foreigner, runs onto the bus very confused, somewhat frantic. From what she says, King can only parse out the words “help” and “lost”. While he does know some English, he definitely isn’t the most fluent, which deters him from wanting to speak it.

As he observes no one stepping up to do anything, he is about to tell Bohn to step into the aisle so he can help her when someone walks briskly past him. Cool Boy. He says something in what sounds like perfect English, and the worry disappears from the woman’s face. After a few words, she gives him her phone, and he types out something.

And that makes him so much more attractive for reasons he cannot explain. 

Bohn nudges him. “Why are you so red? You haven’t even talked to him.”

King presses the backs of his hands to his face. It’s warm to the touch.

“I don’t think I can,” King reasons. “I doubt he’d understand me even if I spoke to him.”

The look Bohn gives him tells him that he knows it’s an excuse.

“But look what he just did.”

“Maybe he’s just smart and knows two languages. He wouldn’t be going to school here if he didn’t understand Thai.”

King’s eyes narrow. His eyes follow Cool Boy as he passes by him.

“He could be in the international program for all I know and barely know Thai.”

“Could,” Bohn repeats, “But you don’t know for sure until you ask.”

While he doesn’t want to admit it, King knows that his friend is right. Instead of conceding, he requests that Bohn let him admire this man from afar. In peace. 

Luckily for him, he’s able to see him a second time, but he seems to be focused on an odd task. Cool Boy has a plate of food, a mishmash of rice and meat set on the grass. A water bottle in one hand, he seems to be looking for something.

He’s probably trying to feed the campus cats.

King waters a nearby plant with the rest of his cup and approaches him.

“Here,” he says as he sticks the cup out towards him.

Cool Boy stares at him with a very neutral expression. King can’t help but admire him and his strong facial structure, long eyelashes, and perfect nose. He’s relieved once he takes the cup. While the younger fills it up, he pesters him, asking him for his name. Firsts he asks in Thai. When he gets no response, he defaults to English, regardless of how embarrassed he feels. He waits for an answer, only to hear silence. The younger’s only sign of acknowledgment is through his gaze, which has somehow become more intense. He has to will himself to not run away. 

But that resolves hits the fan the moment the dog comes bumbling towards the plate.

King’s heart flutters a couple of days later when Cool Boy had walked onto the bus one particularly hot day. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows to reveal an intricate tattoo on his right forearm. While yes, he’s terrified of dogs, King can’t help but admire the ink on his skin. He very quickly latches onto Bohn’s arm, shaking it aggressively. 

“Do you see that?” Bohn hums in acknowledgment. King finds himself repeating the statement slightly louder. The gesture was not appreciated.

He’s so inexplicably whipped. Cool Boy looks so put together and so handsome, and mysterious. And very much unapproachable. Maybe his attraction to him will stop when this illusion of perfection breaks. 

King is wrong.

The next week, Cool Boy runs onto the bus frantically. Accompanying his loud steps is the fluttering of a piece of paper in his hand. Today, he isn’t put together, or that mysterious looking; his typical stony expression is replaced with panic and worry. Red colors his cheeks and King can hear how heavily he’s panting, even with the pen squeezed tightly between his teeth. His hair is unstyled, bangs hanging lightly over his forehead. His uniform’s tie rests loosely around his neck, and his shirt is buttoned wrong. He looks almost normal; the mistakes humanize him. King’s stomach flutters, but for different, more endearing reasons.

Oh. Is that another tattoo on his chest he sees? 

“Oh wow. He’s really cute and hot at the same time. I don’t get it. How,” he turns to Bohn, “How is that even humanly possible?”

Bohn groans, somewhat frustrated next to him. 

“Can you not for once?” King waves him off.

“Says you, hypocrite.”

When they reach the table, Duen is already there, a flower clasped in his hands, and next to him is an unfamiliar person. Bohn plucks away the rose and presses a kiss to his boyfriend’s(? Bohn hasn’t officially asked him out but they act like boyfriends, and everyone is pushing him to finalize it, but he ignores them, as per usual) cheek. 

“This is Phu,” Duen says, “He’s also in the engineering program.”

Phu slightly bows as a greeting and reaches out to shake everyone’s hands. Tee goes out of his way to firmly clasp the junior’s hand with both of his.

“Duen told me that King was really good at tutoring people,” Phu states, “And I was wondering if he could help me? I’m doing really badly in my physics class, and I seriously don’t know what else to do.”

King’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. He didn’t realize that Duen had been so observant. After the whole homework fiasco, he had begun helping Tee actually learn the information rather than using him as an answer key. The other engineering senior seemed grateful nonetheless, constantly praising him for his efforts. King always replied with it wasn’t him, but that Tee was making it all happen. He truly believed in what he said.

“Sure,” he replies.

“What about Ram?” Phu asks Duen, “I thought he was supposed to meet us here.”

The boy’s expression falls a little bit. “He didn’t finish his prelab last night and said he was gonna wake up earlier today to finish it. I guess he thought he could but then he slept through his alarm and didn’t bother setting up more. He’s probably trying to finish it right now.”

Phu laughs. “It’s what he gets for prioritizing his dogs over classwork.”

Duen shrugs but seems to agree. 

Five pairs of eyes, including King’s, stare at the juniors expectantly.

“Ram is another engineering student, and my best friend,” Duen explains, “He also needs tutoring.”

King feels his sleeve being pulled next to him.

“I can tutor Phu,” Tee whispers, “and you can help Ram.”

Confusedly, King asks why.

“Just let me do this once please. And you get less work out of it.”

Tee does bring a good point. But King still doesn’t understand the motivation.

Someone pulls him backward. He looks up to be greeted by Mek’s upside-down face.

“Just let lover boy have his opportunity,” he simply states. Tee slaps their friend’s shoulder, telling him to stop, but there’s obviously no truth to his denial.

With a sly smile he nods.

“I think it would be better if we separated the tutoring. Phu can go with Tee,” King pulls Tee into a friendly headlock, “While he might not understand fluid dynamics, I can guarantee he knows everything up to,” he pauses and reads the title of Phu’s class according to the syllabus he gave him, “General Physics II.”

His friend escapes his grasp and snatches the paper out of his hand. He looks expectantly at the junior, nodding confidently. He hands his phone to him.

King doesn’t know if it’s his eyes tricking him, but as he takes Tee’s phone, Phu’s cheeks seem to turn a little bit red. 

“And I’ll help Ram,” he concludes.

Duen grins brightly, an expression that bleeds onto Bohn’s face.

“I’ll tell him.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier for me to contact him?”

Duen sheepishly scratches the back of his head. “He doesn’t like having his phone number given out to people he doesn’t know? I’ll bring him around sometime.”

“Sounds good,” King agrees. 

Today, King is alone on the bus. Bohn had caught a cold after jumping into a river in an attempt to save Duen’s sister. Things like this don’t happen in real life. Don’t get him wrong, he doesn’t doubt his friend’s account, especially seeing how whipped Bohn is for the medical student, but it feels unbelievable. He would have his AirPods in, but he hadn’t charged them or the case recently. They died after half a song. 

He sits back in his regular seat. At his stop, Cool Boy steps onto the bus. His visuals never seem to fail him. How can someone be that attractive?

Someone waves a hand in front of his face. King, thrown out of his haze looks up.

It’s Cool Boy. 

He gestures at the seat as if asking if it’s free. King nods.

When he sits down, nothing else happens.

Right now, he’s overwhelmed by how close he is, and the details of his perfection. Part of him wants to reach out and lightly trace over the tattoo with his finger, but he knows its weird and not socially acceptable to do so.

The ride to school is quiet and unnerving. He wishes that Bohn was sitting next to him, even if he wouldn’t shut up about his love life, and more recently how unexpectedly dysfunctional it’s become.

When they arrive at the stop, King feels like he lets go of a breath he didn’t even know he was holding in.

“You aren’t too bad yourself, you know.”

It’s quiet but in perfect Thai. 

Before he can say anything else, Cool Boy has already departed.

Oh. He’s a fool. A very big fool.

He doesn’t bother recounting anything to his friends. They would actually clown him out of existence, and it’s the last thing he needs after a morning like this.

On his way to his regular spot, his phone rings in his pocket. It's Bohn.

“Feeling better?”

“He seems to be,” Duen replies.

“At least he’s not alone,” King says to mask his surprise.

The younger man chuckles.

“It’s the least I could do since it was my fault.”

“Bohn was probably being more childish than your sister. Was he pestering you to pay attention to him?”

Duen sighs. King can feel that he’s right.

“Don’t worry too much about it. He gets too jealous too easily.” King found himself getting pretty frustrated with his friend’s attitude. While sometimes Bohn had his points, Duen not always as pure as he seemed, the push and pull never seemed to end. It discredited the both of them, making King very confused.

After a bit of silence, Duen thanks him for his words. A part of King wants to criticize Duen a little bit, but then he remembers to consequences of upsetting the younger and immediately shuts himself up. 

Apparently, the recent incident had made Duen so upset that his friends felt it necessary to intervene. While King thought it was a bit dramatic, they declared that after Bohn had completely recovered from his sickness, he would be subject to a series of trials to prove his love to Duen. It seemed childish until he heard that Ram had declared a boxing match with him. Ram, who was apparently a nationally ranked boxer.

He still hadn’t met Duen’s best friend, and he hopes never to. 

Maybe he can slide out of this tutoring gig.

“I told Ram to meet you by your table really soon.”

“Yeah, about that, I’m not sure if I can do it anymore. You know with midterms coming up, I have a lot of final projects and studying to do.”

He hears slight murmurs. “Bohn says you wrapped all of your projects up yesterday. And that you don’t need to study.”

His free hand cards through his hair nervously. Of course Bohn would be honest.

“I don’t think he knows what he’s talking about,” King laughs a little, “The cold might be getting to his head.”

“What am I talking about?” Bohn exclaims, “What are you talking about? You were literally celebrating about being done with everything in our group chat last night. Plus, I don’t think you’ll be too unhappy with the arrangement.”

“Okay now you’re just being vague!” King replies equally as loud, “What are you even talking about? This man is threatening to pummel you into the ground, of course, I’m a little bit-”

King’s voice trails off as his eyes meet with the same ones as less than an hour ago.

And there’s nobody else.

He hangs up on his friend and ignores the vibrations in his hand.

“Are you Ram?”

Cool Boy, well more properly Ram, nods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hit me up on [tumblr](https://hxt-pxckets.tumblr.com/)
> 
> and a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/55Zbxwi9JUafehVKWFmvXE?si=9gk16gA1T7icbMqFDwnKkA) of all the songs that inspired the story's title and that of the chapters


	2. should i flip your world upside down?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bohn is a questionable wingman and king continues to see ram outside of just the bus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay but wow coding for chat formats is difficult™

Ram is Cool Boy. And Bohn hadn’t bothered to tell him?

The sneaky bastard.

King honestly doesn’t even know what to do. His brain feels really confused, trying to meld to two identities that he has kept separately. Oh god, with him being Duen’s best friend/potential fighting person, it feels like having any attraction to him is wrong.

In the early stages of Bohn and Duen’s “courtship” (Is there really a better word for it? If there is, King would like to know) all the engineering seniors sans King, because he had a family event, had gone to their favorite club to celebrate his “girlfriend’s” birthday. Better said, she considered Bohn to be her boyfriend. She liked framing him as the perfect partner, that he knew everything she wanted, and how to treat her when in reality, she was feeding her desires straight into his head. That was already a red flag.

Coincidentally, Duen and his friends had also been at the club. One of the bartenders promptly informed Bohn that his “girlfriend” had flirted with Duen, before he showed up, even going so far as trying to get her number. His pride at risk, Bohn insisted that he needed to protect it. 

He would call the following actions the perfect plan when he was retelling it, but King couldn’t help but feel wary. While his “girlfriend” and her friends had gone off to the restroom, he sent Duen a few texts to warm up to the drunken junior, and then walked towards his table, extending an invitation for him and his friends to join him. Well, he threatened Phu and told him to walk over or he would punish him.

The others had voiced their confusion but decided there was no harm to the new group. 

“Tee was too busy staring at Phu. Boss was being rejected by the other girls. And you know how I am,” Mek had explained. The two aforementioned boys had immediately thrown themselves on top of him as a form of reckoning.

Duen’s presence was meant to intimidate the girl. Apparently he just happened to say the right things and just being an overall better person, which really was not that hard to do. He said that he vaguely recognized her, sometime later proceeding to whisper something into his friend’s ear. She immediately said that she didn’t hit on him. Her words revealed the lie. Embarrassed, she and her friends stormed out.

Mek commented on how brutal he was. Bohn insisted she deserved it. And then Ram stood up. 

He had been described as just another one of Duen’s friends. Boss would add that the young man had been drilling holes into Bohn’s head with his eyes all evening. None of the seniors had even tried to initiate a conversation with him. With how quiet he had been all evening, the junior’s actions were startling to the whole table.

He walked towards Duen, who was leaning on Bohn, and said that they were leaving. Ram then told Bohn to not use him as a tool to finish a breakup. If you didn’t know him, that’s definitely what it would have looked like. But King knew Bohn, and most likely for him, it was killing two birds with one stone; he could break up with this girl and also get closer to Duen. So, no he doesn’t think it was the “perfect plan.”

Bohn grabbed Duen’s arm, saying he could drive the very drunk man. Ram said he and the rest of their friends could walk back. Bohn continued to claim the efficiency of his car. 

Ram immediately silenced the senior by asking him what his relationship with Duen was if he was offering to drive him home. Bohn didn’t respond, giving Ram the opportunity to guide his friends away from the table.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” King states, finally picking the phone up. “How long have you known,” he immediately says into the receiver.

“Since last week,” Bohn replies, “I would say I’m sorry, but I’m really not.”

“Oh,” Duen says from somewhere in the background, “Ram says he doesn’t want the tutoring anymore.”

Again, his brain is very confused, and doesn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. The latter wins over the former and he turns around to try to convince him otherwise.

But, much like the bus, he’s gone.

He doesn’t know why, but King finds himself googling the junior’s name.

Ram means beautiful.

If you had asked him two weeks ago, when he had first seen him, King would immediately agree. Now, however, he isn’t so sure.

**gofundme.com/teach-bohn-proper-communication-skills (5)**  
_15:48  
_

_plant bottom changed whipped’s nickname to i hope ram beats your ass_

**mek’s wife**  
?

 **boss’s husband**  
I think this is the predicted outcome but whatever

 **plant bottom**  
this fucker didn’t tell me that the bus boy  
who i’ve been fawning over  
THESE PAST  
TWO  
WEEKS  
was Ram  
Duen’s Ram

 **tee-short**  
thats a fat oof

_i hope ram beats your ass changed their nickname to ram won’t beat my ass_

**ram won’t beat my ass**  
His ass is gonna be beat  
My love for duen>>>his fists

 **boss’s husband**  
Good on you for the confidence  
But no

 **ram won’t beat my ass**  
He’s giving me time to train  
He’s definitely trying to delay the fight

 **plant bottom**  
how long?

 **ram won’t beat my ass**  
Until Duen gives me his last rose  
Next Monday

 **tee-short**  
Its bc of his midterms lol

 **boss’s husband**  
it's not enough time to put you on the same level as a national athlete

 **mek’s wife**  
^^^  
former national athlete  
They kicked him off after he knocked out everyone on the team within the first month of training  
noone knows y tho

****

****

_plant bottom changed ram won’t beat my ass’s nickname to dead in twelve days_

**boss’s husband**  
we never planned on betting on you

 **plant bottom**  
we have to raise money for your hospital bill somehow

 **dead in twelve days**  
thanks 

**mek’s wife**  
But bUT  
BUT  
how about King and Ram hMM

 **boss’s husband**  
ngl, i remember thinking he was really hot  
and i felt this mental bond with him  
the quiet brooding 

**mek’s wife**  
wow  
right in front of me

 **tee-short**  
_@mek’s wife_ you do the same thing  
but with girls and all the time

 **mek’s wife**  
lololol ikik  
I was jokingggg

King can’t help but revisit what Ram said to him (or what if he hallucinated it; this actually makes more sense).

> “You aren’t too bad yourself, you know.”

An almost pleasant shiver shoots down his body at the thought.

 **plant bottom**  
i doubt there could be anything  
as much as i may hate Bohn

 **dead in twelve days**  
Fuck you

 **plant bottom**  
mhm  
love you too  
i don’t want him to die 

**tee-shirt**  
gotta respecc teh bro code

 **boss's husband**  
exactly 

As King pockets his phone, mentally declaring the conversation finished, he sees Duen walk down the path, a box in hand. The school was collecting donations for something; he really didn’t care. He’s handing the container to someone.

King knows the back of that head.

He waits until Duen has completely walked away. Does he know why he thinks this is a good idea? Not at all, but there go his feet, walking in front of Ram. 

“So you can actually hold full conversations.” 

He tries to continue down the path, but King puts an arm out.

“Wait, I’m just trying to donate here. And I’ll throw in some personality analysis as a tip.” He drops the coin into the box. King feels his customary flirt melding into him. He hasn’t been this outward in a while, but it feels good, natural.

Ram attempts to walk around King, just to be stopped.

“I’m not done,” he pulls another coin out of his back pocket, “You aren’t talking to me, but did to Duen. You probably only talk to people you’re close to.” He lets go of the money. 

The younger indicates nothing and continues to try to escape. King stops him again.

His hand hovers over the box again. “So if I want any hope of you talking to me again, I’ll have to be close to you.” He drops the coin into the box. 

As he pushes Ram back in place for the fourth time, he declares that he’ll begin this relationship by calling him Cool Boy because of his facial expression. It’s an excuse for him to realize his nickname for the younger, but he justifies it better. 

“A nickname so we can be closer,” he explains, “I can call you that right, Cool Boy?”

Ram doesn’t let his guard down. Instead, he looks expectantly at King, probably for a donation. He doesn’t have any coins left and pulls out the only money in his pocket, a 500 baht note.

He hovers hesitantly over the opening. The younger pulls the money out of his hand and drops it into the box. Taking advantage of his shock, Ram walks away.

Sure, King was 500 baht poorer, but he tells himself it was worth it.

He also realizes that same evening that he actually does have to care about the donations thing because they’re funds for his major. He had forgotten that he and Ram were in the same program. His friends are there too. Everything is normal except for Bohn, who has been quiet and pouty all evening. He won’t disclose the details of what’s happened, but it definitely has something to do with Duen.

After bringing food for everyone at the volunteering event, Tee declares that they should take a picture for their school page. King checks the post after seeing that he’s been tagged in it. He doesn’t look bad.

King has never seen Ram at these events, until tonight. He’s in the back, a small smile on his face. Phu, a regular, crouches next to him.

Ram Vera, according to his tag. Turning towards the younger, he can’t help but appreciate how calm he looks as he’s painting. 

Maybe there is some truth to his name meaning beautiful.

 **Private Chat between Ram Vera and Thanthep King**  
_19:54  
_

_Thanthep King changed Ram Vera’s nickname to cool boy  
Thanthep King changed their nickname to_ 👑

 **👑**  
hey  
look to your right

He watches as Ram turns and makes eye contact with him. However, his wave goes unanswered. He returns his phone to his pocket instead. Undeterred, King continues his pursuit.

_19:55_

**👑**  
if you don’t want to talk to me  
you could always text instead.

Ram takes his phone out again, but he leaves the messages unread. After answering a brief phone call, he stands up and disappears.

King, being who he is, decides to keep texting the younger.

 **👑**  
why are you ignoring me?  
i know you’re getting my texts.  
ram  
rammm  
raAAAm

If he's being completely honest, he wonders to himself if this chase is worth it. The younger hasn't done really anything to him, but King still really wants to get to know him. Whatever he had felt before wasn't a crush. Any person could admit how attractive Ram was; you'd have to be blind not to see it. You can't like someone you don't even know (right?). He just wants to understand him better, even if there wasn't any romance.

He was just; intrigued.

_19:59_

**👑**  
cool boy  
cOOl bOy  
;-;  
answer meeeeee

He really hopes he's not being too pushy. After sometime, King finally stops, but it’s not a response from Ram that stills him. Duen has shown up, seemingly out of nowhere to gift Bohn a rose, in front of the whole department.

Yesterday, Bohn told everyone that they would be putting their little habit out of respect for Duen’s friends' wishes with the trials and everything. But, King caught him in the act behind the engineering building. His friend had made some excuse about needing to grab something before school. King was nervous about a presentation he was supposed to give and decided to pump himself up in what he thought was an abandoned area.

There, he saw Bohn stuffing the flower into his bag and unsuccessfully trying to hide Duen and himself. Teasing him in class was a good time. Analyzing the moral faults of a recent building failure in the five minutes after was not. 

King’s telling himself that he’s kind of relieved that Ram isn’t here when he realizes that Phu has also, out of nowhere, disappeared. At least (he doesn’t really know if it’s a good thing) he has a front-row seat to whatever is happening here.

Duen explains that he’s there to give food to his friends, which Bohn graciously takes for himself. Bohn asks Duen if he’s ever admitted to liking him. The younger seems to keen at the compliment.

 **gofundme.com/teach-bohn-proper-communication-skills (5)**  
_20:03_

__

**plant bottom**  
someone tell me why duen is here

 **mek’s wife**  
oh fuuuuck  
ur right

 **tee-short**  
that’s bad  
i’m with ram rn

 **plant bottom**  
keep him busy  
ram will definitely lose his shit if he sees this

 **tee-short**  
got it 

**boss's husband**  
is it just you and him?

 **tee-short**  
no lol phu’s here too

 **boss's husband**  
i’ll join  
nobody likes being a third wheel

 **plant bottom**  
wait where are yall  
i’ll come

 **tee-short**  
We’re by the gear  
We have a flashlight pointing up.

 **boss's husband**  
i've got it covered  
plus i think he’d appreciate the solidarity in silence

King looks over and takes note that the darkness and a good amount of the surrounding foliage prevent him from actually seeing them. The only beacon is the brightness. He has to admit that Mek does have a point.

 **mek’s wife**  
but, ME  
you’re gonna leave M E  
FOR SOME HOT JUNIOR

 **plant bottom**  
why are you texting  
you’re right next to each other

In the corner of his eye, King sees Boss attempting to hold Mek down, but the other senior brushes him off, albeit endearingly. He takes his food and King really wants to get up and follow. He pushes the thought out of his head and instead decides to keep working on his poster. 

**dead in twelve days**  
I just saw this  
How long can you stall him  
I really like having duen here

 **mek’s wife**  
peak whipped culture

 **tee-short**  
ram is halfway done with his food

 **dead in twelve days**  
he looks so cute  
imma wife him up

 **plant bottom**  
if your plan is to publicly post pictures of him without your permission as this dramatic confession  
idk about this time my guy  
it was already weird last time when it seemed like you were just asserting dominance over Frong

 **dead in twelve days**  
But i’m just teasing  
And I just wanted to put the business guy in his place

 **plant bottom**  
i don’t know if his friends will take lightly to this  
especially since you both agreed to stop the rose thing

 **dead in twelve days**  
we never said that we'd stop seeing each other

King is about to retort, explaining that them stopping the morning roses was probably intended to reduce the contact that Duen and his friend could have when Tee interrupts.

 **tee-short**  
oh fuck ram’s a fast eater  
he’s going back  
phu’s trying to convince him to stay

 **tee-short**  
he failed  
ram’s heading your way

Boss pushes Duen up, collecting his things, and offering to walk him out. The younger, not at all suspicious, accepts.

 **boss's husband**  
the things we do sometimes holy shit

 **dead in twelve days**  
thanks

 **tee-short**  
of course  
you've become much better because of him  
somewhat more reliable, less of a player

 **mek’s wife**  
*sheds tear*  
ur maturing 

**plant bottom**  
i swear if it was the box thing

 **mek’s wife**  
you gotta admit, the idea was pretty cute  
the handkerchief with the whole if i can get you to open this box, then i can get you to open up your heart note

 **dead in twelve days**  
_@plant bottom_ you of little faith  
but it was, apparently.

 **plant bottom**  
damn

As much as he hates to admit it, for once, the factors seemed to fall into place for Bohn. Maybe (hopefully) Duen's newfound contentment would impede his friends from continuing with these tests. The first was to begin tomorrow. Because of Ting, Bohn must retrieve a rose as Duen had done for the next three days. It wasn't a difficult task, but with his friend's already iffy track record, other academic consequences could insue. 

King sees Mek, Tee, Phu, and Ram walk back into the area. Bohn sits in front of him, acting as if nothing or no one had ever happened. Mek circles back to Boss, whose pout immediately shifts into an expression of joy. Tee takes his time to walk Phu the ten extra steps back to where he had been working. 

And then there's Ram. King waves again. This time, he actually responds with a small, almost unnoticeable nod, a personal win in King's book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> King’s nickname was inspired by this tweet: https://twitter.com/TheFackelmayer/status/1256760499842277376


	3. in this disorder, a flower is blossoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ram is a quiet but confident gay confirmed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a ha i condensed a lot of things because tomorrow is the last episode and i have many feelings

** eight days until someone is gonna die  **

Ram’s lack of a response has become really frustrating. King was a charming guy, right? Open and nice enough to befriend. Why didn’t this guy want to talk to him? Should he give up? 

Almost like a response from above, King sees Ram much sooner than he anticipated, and on a Saturday of all things. 

On his way to the bus stop, he sees the junior at a bench working on something. The campus is quiet on weekends, without the typical hustle and bustle; an ideal study spot. 

Upon seeing Ram, his curiosity gets the best of him, and King finds himself circling behind the younger to see what he’s doing. He wasn’t in a rush anyways. 

It looks to be some basic physics work. Everything would be fine, if it weren’t for the fact that Ram wasn’t doing it right.

“You’re not doing that right,” he says.

He’s startled Ram, who doesn’t jump to his credit but rather shoots his head around in his voice’s direction. King takes a seat next to him.

“You plugged in the wrong numbers over here.”

Ram immediately turns away from him, trying to shield him from his paper. King successfully avoids his defenses and gets a hold on the paper. They have a brief tug of war session, but King eventually wins with an impromptu wink. The younger’s face doesn’t reveal anything, but considering how his grip loosened enough to let go of the packet, there had been some influence. 

King puts the paper in between them and begins to go through the work. When he looks back over, Ram seems to have his full attention on him. In his element, he continues with his teachings for a while. At some point, Ram has taken his paper back to work on it himself. King doesn’t leave his side, deciding to stick around to help the younger out. He no longer hides his work from him and accepts the help.

A series of drops seem to fall on his head. King puts his hand out to feel the coolness on his palm. The wet spots on Ram’s packet confirm his suspicions. The weather hadn’t mentioned this. He’s only wearing a short-sleeve shirt, and his shoulder bag is definitely not big enough to cover his head. 

“You’re almost done here,” King declares, “I should leave before it gets any worse.”

To King’s shock, Ram shoots an arm out, holding onto his wrist.

“I can’t stay. I didn’t bring an umbrella.” Although, he doesn’t pull away. 

The younger pulls him back down into his seat. A couple of seconds later, he retrieves an umbrella from his bag, opens it, and places it in King’s open palm. Realizing what was happening, King shifts a bit closer to Ram so he can as efficiently as possible cover both of them from the now heavy rainfall.

With the way he’s sitting, straddling the bench, he has a very clear view of Ram’s profile. King’s eyes catch on the same features he had admired from afar. An expression of concentration was etched onto his face. Strong eyebrows furrowed together, lips tightly in a single line, intimidating eyes focused onto the paper, his right hand worked furiously at the last problem on the packet. He watches him circle key figures and underline units, a tip he had suggested. 

Ram computes numbers well, almost like a calculator. There are no mathematical signs, but rather a repetition of numbers, a customary line, and then what Ram presumes is the right number. The younger’s only issue is his inability to remember the formulas. When Ram taps his arm with his pencil, it’s exactly what he says. The variables had been switched, but the math was perfect. And they were done.

“What math are you in?” King can’t help but ask.

Ram pulls another packet out of his bag. It’s the same one he has.

“Oh, I’m in this class too!” He flips through the familiar problems, ones he hasn’t even started yet, “How come I’ve never seen you in class?”

Ram smiles cheekily. Very rarely has King ever seen the younger put down his stony expression. Once politely, when he was helping that woman, and a few other times more genuinely at his phone. And now, at him.

“Do you not go to lectures? That’s amazing. I could never do that.”

The smile reaches his eyes and King can’t help but think that the expression transforms him in a very good way.

“You know, if you ever need help or anything, you can always text me.” He gauges the younger’s reaction. His mouth has relaxed slightly, but there’s still a pleasant aura to him as he nods. 

“Are you going to the bus stop?” Ram shakes his head. The rain is falling too hard to be comfortable. “Do you mind walking me there?”

The junior responds with neither a confirmation nor a rejection. He cradles King’s elbow and guides them in the opposite direction. 

“Cool Boy!” King exclaims, “Where are you taking me?” Much like his texts, his words go unanswered.

A couple of minutes, and at least one pair of wet socks later, they finally reach a nearby restaurant.

They take a seat at one of the free tables. 

“Is this some way of paying me back for helping you today?”The corners of Ram’s mouth go up slightly as he nods. King calls over the owner of the cart. 

“Hi Ram,” the woman says, “I see you brought someone.”

“I’m King,” he says, introducing himself, “A senior in his program.” He extends a hand.

“Pin,” she replies as she reaches out to shake it, “Ram’s best friend that isn't Duen.” She places a menú down in front of him. “Okay, so what can I get you.” Pin turns to Ram. “I’m assuming you want your usual.” 

He glances down and picks out a few dishes. Before she leaves, she whispers something into Ram’s ear. He waves her down and says something to which she slaps his shoulder lightly. Ram rolls his eyes and turns back to King. 

“Ooooo,” King sings, “Is that your girlfriend?”

A look of slight disgust appears on his face, causing the senior to laugh. 

“Okay, okay, I guess not.” 

King learns more about the younger, especially in terms of dogs. This evening, Ram has become a lot more responsive. He isn’t sure if it’s because of the hours they spent together studying or the fact that he’s mentioning dogs, but there are a lot more nods and head shakes. Apparently he has three large huskies. King tries not to stiffen when he shows him a picture, going so far as complementing them as much as a person who’s afraid of dogs can. He’s pretty sure Ram doesn’t buy his words, but he doesn’t question them. 

King promptly changes the topic and talks more about his plants, describing the ones he has, how much he revels in the process, etc. 

“Plants to me are like dogs to you,” he declares. Ram seems to agree.

While he is somewhat content with their current state, King can’t help but wanting more, wanting to hear Ram’s voice again, to see if he’d really said what he’d said.

“Hey,” he says to get the younger’s attention, “This might sound random, but did you ever say something to me on the bus?”

Ram stares his customary stare, and then cocks his head to the side, very cutely and much like a dog.

King laughs it off. “Okay, I guess not.” 

“RAM VERA!” Pin yells from behind King, startling a group of nearby customers. She apologizes and continues towards their table. Resting in her hand is what he presumes to be their food. “Don’t be such a fucking tease holy shit.” She slaps Ram over the head. “You know that head leaning thing is weirdly attractive, being around dogs so much.”

“I’m so sorry for him,” she apologizes, spreading the plates over their table.

“Wait, I didn’t order this.” He looks across the table at his companion who looks equally as confused.

“I’ll give you some free food. If you give me your Line ID.” 

King stares at her, shocked. Ram’s face reflects the emotion. “Umm, no, it’s okay.” He nudges the dish with the back of his chopsticks back in her direction. Ram breaks into a loud fit of laughter. 

“You deserve it,” he says, but it’s enough for King to confirm that 1) Ram had definitely heard him for those two weeks on the bus, and 2) that he also found him attractive.

“You did lie,” King says, “That’s so mean Cool Boy.” However, Ram doesn’t waver. “Denying it won’t get you out of this.” His eyes stay on the junior, who takes his phone out of his pocket. Seconds later, he feels his pocket vibrates.

 **Private Chat between cool boy and 👑**  
_19:26_

 **cool boy**  
You're just as pretty as you think I'm hot.

King looks up and down, between his screen and Ram who has the audacity to have a somewhat self-satisfied smile on his face. 

“Oh, look what you did to the poor senior,” Pin pokes, “He’s so red. You better apologize properly.” 

Ram is collecting all of the leftovers in a small container he has in his bag. Pin drops a little bit of rice in it, for which he thanks her. She pulls King aside as Ram is finishing up.

“He’s a good guy,” she comments, “Keep him out of trouble.” He almost tells her about how he’s planning on beating his friend to a pulp, but Ram’s grasp on his wrist pulls him away.

The walk is really peaceful, especially with the constant pattering. Unfortunately, it’s still raining, forcing them to share the umbrella on the way back. It’s barely large enough to cover both of them; King can feel his left arm becoming a little damp again and he’s pretty sure Ram is undergoing the same sensation, but if he is, he doesn’t say anything.

When they’ve reached the place they were studying, King hears a bark from a distance and he freezes. He looks ahead of him, and a dog is running towards him. And it’s like that moment when he was a child, being thrown to the floor, angry and beady eyes staring directly at him and the searing pain in his arm. Then his legs try to move, but he’s stopped by Ram’s hold. He turns around, concerned. 

“D-dog,” he barely mutters. He can feel his grip on the umbrella tightening. Ram lightly pushes King behind him. From the little he can see over the junior’s shoulder, it’s the same dog that Ram had fed last week. His free hand scrunches the fabric of the other’s shirt. When he walks away, King lets out a small screech of panic. 

Ram has his hand extended and is grabbing something out of his bag. It’s the box of food. The dog barks again when he opens it. King watches him guide the dog to a dry spot beneath a table. The junior returns briskly under the umbrella. He grabs King again and drags him away from the dog. It’s literally after they take a couple of steps away from the dog that the rain finally decides to let up. 

“Thanks,” King says upon reaching the bus stop, “Sorry about that.” He closes the umbrella, wraps it up, and hands it back to Ram.

He looks up and down at the younger. “You’re soaked. I’m really sorry. Seriously I'm indebted to you.” His phone buzzes.

 **Private Chat between cool boy and** **👑**  
_20:39_

 **cool boy**  
Do you have old practice exams from your first year?

“Of course.” The younger stretches a hand out. “Now?” Ram nods. “I don’t have any of those now.”

The younger doesn’t respond even as they board the bus. He sticks earbuds into his ears immediately and stares out into the night.

King doesn’t realize what’s happening until Ram doesn’t get off at his stop.

“Oh wow, you’re really adamant on this right now thing.”

They’re sitting quietly next to each other when King really notices the tattoo on the younger’s forearm. Sure it may just be a dog, but there really are intricacies to the geometric style.

“You really like tattoos, don’t you Cool Boy?”

He pulls the arm onto his shoulder and his phone out of his pocket. Through the selfie camera, King decides that this whole thing is not a bad look. The rain has slicked his hair down in a pretty nice manner, and he’s shining, not in a too oily way. The ink on the arm next to him kind of compliments the look, adding an unexpected edge. He takes a couple of pictures.

Then, as King plans to listen to music, his phone dies. He sits quietly until a not totally unwelcome intrusion is felt in his ear. He adjusts the earbud but isn't able to get comfortable with the rock music Ram is playing. He grabs the phone and changes it to something more mellow.

"It fits the atmosphere better," he reasons.

When they finally reach his stop, they’re walking towards the large house.

“I don’t still live with my parents,” King jokes, “But I’m staying over tonight.”

He guides him upstairs to his room and throws him a change of clothes. Ram’s a bit wider than him, so he’s able to scrounge up an oversized sweatshirt. He only takes the top and not the bottoms, a pair of plain joggers, before disappearing into the restroom “Give them back to me later,” he says to essentially nobody.

King gets to work on locating the notes, finally finding a binder in the back of his storage closer titled year one. He flips through it and takes out the notes from the section that Ram is currently doing. His body then falls back onto the bed, eyes about to shut from the pure exhaustion of the day, when the bathroom door unlocks and Ram walks out. He immediately surveys the area, looking first at King and then at the jars of moss on his desk, picking one up and holding it closer to his face.

“Those are like mini gardens. They’re like a pacifier for me, always keeping me calm.” Ram doesn’t say anything and continues to stare intently at the small terrarium. Oh and there goes his heart. There’s something weirdly charming about seeing the younger in his clothes, in a garment that fits his figure perfectly. And now he’s just standing there, looking so at something that was so arbitrary to everyone else but King with an expression that reflects such intense care. Seeing his arm move to put the jar down makes him recall the real (not domestic) reason the junior is in his room.

“Okay, here you go,” he stands up to give him the notes and a plastic bag for the wet garment. His heart has started beating up slightly faster, as they leave the room. He takes him back downstairs, going so far as walking him to the door.

“You better get going; you don’t want to wait another half hour for the next bus."

Ram nods and walks away, causing an emptiness in King’s chest to form in place of the rapid beating. 

"I'll see you later," King yells into the void, "Text me if you get home safely."

He pads back upstairs to his room and dives back onto the bed. An hour later, after he takes a shower and begins to wind down for the evening, his phone goes off unexpectedly.

 **Private Chat between cool boy and** **👑**  
_21:50_

 **cool boy**  
Thank you for helping me today.

 **👑**  
if anything i should be thanking you

The thought of Ram reminds King of the picture he took on the bus. He sends it to him. Pensive moments later, he has a new profile picture.

** **** **  


** seven days until someone is gonna die **

_ 6:58 _

**cool boy**  
You look good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song: Fixx Me by Jukjae


	4. oh don't be afraid (please) take off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> not much interactions between the main boyos™ but king cares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh i'm not ready for the finale y'all
> 
> this is accidental filler but the end will be *chef's kiss* worth it.

** seven days until someone is gonna die **

That morning, minutes after King had gotten over the Ram’s text, Bohn called him to say that he wouldn’t be taking the bus anymore because his car was finally out of the shop. He then offered to give him free rides, which King was very much ready to accept. But then, of course, he remembered that he didn’t want to aggressively third wheel and be squished in between two children in a tiny backseat. So he said no.

His gaze still follows Ram as he boards the bus. King’s only slightly surprised when the younger takes the free seat next to him. 

“Hi, Cool Boy,” he greets. When he doesn’t reply, King offers him an AirPod, which he thankfully takes.

The music from his morning playlist sings sweetly into their ears. Ram stretches his hand out after a couple of songs. King hands him the phone and watches as he adds the title to his personal playlist.

Then, King makes it his personal mission to try to conjure up a series of songs that the younger will like. It’s a weird game for both of them. King feels a bit antsy, the only words coming out of his mouth being a couple of sentences of commentary about each track, but Ram seems to feel each one out. He skips the ones he doesn’t like after about thirty or so seconds and takes his time with the others. Fingers tap silent beats onto his knee, head nodding silently.

He has his full attention on the music, but it doesn’t seem as forced as yesterday. Ram is leaning back into his seat, getting as comfortable as one can in a plastic bus seat, eyes closed. King forces himself to look away from the younger and out the window.

The bus finally stops at the school. The younger man moves quickly, forcing King to run to catch up with him. Fortunately, Ram gradually slows down so they can walk side by side. Before, he hadn’t realized that they actually headed in similar directions before the path splits in opposite directions. Whereas King would walk straight to the Engineering buildings, Ram met up with his friends at the Medical department. 

As he’s walking, King can’t help but think the atmosphere is a bit, weird. It could be the bad sleep he got last night overthinking if sending the picture was even the right thing to do, but he isn’t sure. He’s turning around every couple of seconds. He decides to entertain his probable paranoia by hiding behind one of the stone columns. Surprisingly, his gut was correct. A couple of moments later a teenager dressed in a high school uniform, a bag strapped to his back, and papers in one of his hands, emerges from behind a different column. He looks confused as if he’s searching for something.

When his back is turned, King walks towards him. “Why are you following me?” he immediately accuses.

The kid faces him. King can’t help but think there’s something familiar about him. Whatever it is, it definitely isn’t his personality. He immediately feigns ignorance albeit not well. “What do you mean?” He looks down at his paper, “Thanthep King.” He’s surprised to hear his name, which must show on his face because it becomes his follower’s cue to run away. But he doesn’t get very far. 

Seeing Ram run down the path and the way the kid immediately stops makes King finally realize that he must be his brother,

“Ruj!” Ram exclaims. Ruj immediately stills. He watches the other push his brother back towards him. Before the brothers exchange any words, he places an AirPod in King’s palm. 

“Oh shit,” he mutters to himself. He puts it and the other one in his ear, back in their case. Ram walks his brother off to an empty table a small ways from the path. Intrigued, King follows.

He sees Ram firmly push Ruj down onto a bench. King takes a seat across from the pair. He cradles his head in the crook of his arm, slightly more tired than he had been. When he looks up, they’re communicating with each other silently through their eyes. Ram’s eyes look at him for a moment before they return to his brother.

“Why are you here?” he asks.

Ruj pats the papers that are now on the table. “Mom told me to hand these to you before you left the house, but then you were gone before I could and-”

King’s free arm flips through the all too familiar pages. “I gave these to him last night,” he interrupts, “They’re my study materials from my freshman year.” 

“It’s that necessary midterm practice,” Ruj summarizes. He turns back to his brother, “Mom’s just worried.”

Ram sighs very obviously not believing him. “Then why did you follow him?”

King’s gaze flickers back and forth between the brothers. Ruj opens his mouth, trying to form some excuse, and at that moment, he can’t help but pity him. “He wasn’t,” slips out of his mouth. Ram shoots an eyebrow up, slightly suspicious, “He just asked me for directions to the Engineering department.” After a pointed look, Ruj nods his head furiously. “I am the person who actually has his major on their shirt.”

Ram’s ready to protest, but King immediately scolds him about not taking care of his brother, forcibly changing anger to shock. 

“He probably didn’t have breakfast trying to catch you,” he reasons, “Go get him something to eat.”

The younger hesitates, seeming to doubt the situation. King waves him away, which for some reason works. After he’s out of earshot, he begins his real questioning.

“I didn’t think that name thing would actually work,” Ruj laughs to himself in disbelief. He then seems to realize the situation doesn’t make sense. “Wait, why’d you help me?”

King’s looked at this kid for a while, trying to put the puzzles together of who Ruj thinks he is, and why it’s so important for him to figure it out. He shifts in his seat, letting his head rest in the palm of his now propped up hand. 

“You saw my face in Ram’s phone,” he states, not answering the question, “and got curious about who I was.”

Ruj looks a bit startled but nods. “This morning, when I was sitting next to him, he had his phone open, and I thought ‘oh he’s just looking at dogs again because he has no other priorities in his life’. But then, no it was your face and I couldn’t not ask him about it. Instead of just being quiet, he actually got up and walked away from me.”

“And the notes?”

“He forgot them at the kitchen counter. Floundered with our mom and told her that they were important to Ram,” Ruj shoots his hand outward and then slams the table, “Boom, I’m here now.”

“So who do you think I am to your brother?” He dribbles his fingers quietly in slight anxiousness.

When Ruj turns his head to one side, he can’t help but think he looks like Ram. “I’m not sure.” He pauses, “But I’d be careful if I were you.”

King lets out a sound in between a laugh and a scoff. “Is this a protective younger brother spiel?”

“I meant my brother. You mess with him, and you’ll probably get a broken nose out of it.”

Like Bohn. “Don’t worry about that. I’m just poking at his hard exterior,” he lightly pats his cheeks, “And my face is still fine.”

“You’re definitely doing something, but I’m not sure what.”

He swerves the conversation topic. While knowing someone is a national-level boxer is impressive in itself, he’s curious about what makes up such a boxer. And he wants to know just how screwed his friend will be next week. “Has he ever lost a boxing match?”

“Now, not that I’ve heard about, but only some when he was younger. He really is that good. You know, Australia offered him a spot on their team.”

The news is surprising to King. “ I always assumed it was Thailand.”

“Technically it was both, but he initially refused Australia’s offer, but when the whole thing with the Thai national team happened, they retracted the spot.”

The moment King is about to ask for more details, Ram returns with a small box of food. He looks at his senior and nods at his brother, almost inquisitively.

“He was no bother,” he concludes with a small smile.

Ram pulls his phone out of his pocket and sticks it in King’s face. He isn’t sure what he’s supposed to be looking at. His lock screen is plain white, which was unexpected, so what else than the time.

08:55

His class starts in five minutes. It’s at least a five-minute walk from where he is, a minute or two less if he runs. 

“I have to go,” he says, to which Ram rolls his eyes. “Shut it, your brother is quite entertaining. He told me all of your deepest darkest secrets.” His dismissive gaze turns slightly panicked, tinged with some anger.

“What! No! That’s not true!” He holds onto his brother’s arm as if he can squeeze the belief out of the limb. 

“It was nice meeting you, Ruj,” he looks at the junior, “And I’ll see you later, Cool Boy.” He drops a wink for Ram, causing his brother to gape at the action, but King he, unfortunately, runs away before he can see what happens next.

While cardio is something King definitely hates, he’s still glad he followed Ram.

** six days until someone is gonna die **

“Are ya gonna win the fight?” Tee asks. They’ve returned to the club that probably incited the mutual hate Bohn and Ram had for each other to wind down and relax. Their table is littered with too many empty cups for King to count in his tipsy state. None of them have a midterm tomorrow, but the Fluid Dynamics exam the day after will actually destroy everyone, but King. He urges them to not go out, but his words are left unheeded, to which at that point he adopts a “if you can’t beat them, then join them” mentality. 

Tee, Bohn, and Boss are definitely drinking their woes away. It’s an unfortunate but funny situation. As bystanders, he and Mek are there to babysit and enjoy the show.

Bohn loudly wails and pouts. “I meeean. Dooo I think I’m going to win?” He pushes a finger to the side of his head a couple times. “I haaaave to if I wanna love Duen right. Right? BEcaaause if I don’t, then Raaaam gets Duen aaand that’s” he slams his palm down on the table for emphasis, “the reeaaal loss.” Then the sobs start. “A freaking national boxer. I can’t,” a sniffle, “I can’t win against that.”

Recruited by two countries, King thinks to himself. Which means that Ram probably has dual citizenships. He truly does live up to his nickname. 

“TWO!” Tee exclaims, arm resting on his shoulder “What are you talking about?”

He giggles and tells them what he heard from Ram’s brother.

“Oh my god,” Mek mutters, “We’re going to have to bet more money for that hospital fund.” He comfortingly rubs their friend’s back, which causes a big reaction from Boss. He drags the hand off of Bohn and lets their fingers intertwine. His head rests on the quiet man’s shoulder. Whispers of inaudible words leave Mek red and King pitying him. Boss curls up like a cat and seems to fall asleep.

“Caaan you just get your ass beeeeat?” Tee complains, “and soon. I wanna see my boyyyfrieeeend.”

Duen’s friend were pretty adamant about the separation thing, but left it to the honor system which was probably their biggest mistake. For Phu and Tee, it really wasn’t much of an issue. In terms of inter-friend group politics, they seemed to understand the why of the situation. King’s mentioned it before, and he’ll mention it again, but Duen and Bohn are at the heart of this relationship. He gets that doing a wider ban will probably put more pressure on the pair, but if anything, it’s causing tensions in the friend group.

King really tries to not enable his friend, especially with the morning drives that they had. Sure, they can justify it with the environment, but he’s never seen Bohn care about gas emissions before in his life

“I saaaw him the otherrr daaay,” Bohn drawls, “He askeddd me to get him that smoothieeee that Duen loves so much, but in a glass cup,” a bark of laughter, “was weirddd.”

“And Tang’s?” 

“Gotta tell ALL,” he throws his hands up, “the faculties how much I love Duen. ALL.” He waves his arms at the last word.

“How long do you got?” King asks.

“Three days, so I should be fineee.”

A pulsing beat starts to play, causing Tee to take Bohn’s hands and go out to the dance floor. Tee ignores the very obvious look of hesitation and drags him out anyways.

“How drunk am I?” King asks the only truly sober person. 

A glass of water is given to him. After watching him finish it, Mek tells him that he could definitely be worse. “Give it an hour or two, and you’ll be better, for sure.” King watches him look down at the boy who has now slipped down to his lap, and the other two “dancing” (more like vaguely moving to the beat).

“I am way too sober for whatever this is.”

King nods to tell him that he can relate, but that’s a total lie.

“How’d you get to learn that info about Ram?” Mek asks after a bit of awkward silence.

“His brother,” he replies easily.

“And when the hell did that happen?”

“Yesterday. He was looking for me,” he bursts out into another fit of laughter. The small voice in the back of his head is insisting that he stops disclosing so many details of his interactions with Ram, but his drunk logic oversimplifies it and blankets those worries by saying that they aren’t dating like the others so it’s fine.

Mek has become even more confused. “His brother knows what you look like?”

King nods.

“Are you close with Ram?" King shrugs, "Can you convince him to not kill Bohn, or only hurt him enough so that we won’t have to take him to the hospital?”

Okay, while King does know that the boy he’s recently befriended intends to hurt his other friend, it’s not something he actively thinks about. He’s very easily lost in the interactions the two of them have together, and enjoys the minutia of it all. But, to use that friendship to save his other friend? He doesn’t know why, but something about that feels weird, and mayhaps even manipulative.

When he expresses this to Mek, he sighs. “I know you’re irritated with how Bohn is handling his relationship. We know it’s a two way streak, with Duen being so innocent he’s insensible and Bohn being way too childish, but that doesn’t mean he should be turned into a pulp for the mistakes that happen as a result. Sure actions speak louder than words, but he’s so happy with that junior that maybe he should stay intact enough for them to actually repair their relationship.” 

“But the fight says that if King wins then Bohn has to just stop talking to Duen.”

“Maybe get him to change that condition,” his friend continues, “Give them another chance to directly talk.”

King considers Mek’s words. 

“Tomorrow,” he asserts, “If I remember.”

“I’ll text you in the morning.” He rubs a hand across his face. “I really hope you were sober enough for that conversation.” King laughs, causing Mek to laugh as a chain reaction. They order cups of water and some food to have on standby. Not before long, Bohn drags Tee back to their table and drops him into a chair. He, on the other hand, sits abruptly on the floor.

King takes one of the cups, and hands it to Bohn who semi-successfully pours its contents into his mouth. “You okay, bud?” he asks.

“You know I fucking hate it when you call me that.” Bohn replies as he wipes his mouth, “But I threw up in the men’s restroom earlier so I’m feeling a lot better.”

“Damn. I was banking on you being so drunk that you wouldn’t remember tomorrow.” His words earn him a punch in the arm.

As they’re walking out of the club to Bohn’s car, supporting Tee in between them, King can’t help but tell him that he has faith in him, that he actually could win the fight. His friend stares back very confusedly, while fiddling for his keys. But he also seems somewhat touched. 

“Thanks,” he says, “That kind of means a lot.” 

“I don’t intentionally mean to put you down all the time,” King continues, “Sometimes that ego of yours does deserve it. But above all, I do really believe in you.”

Their small moment is instantly ruined by the sound and smell of Tee almost throwing up on their shoes.

** four days until someone is gonna die **

Phu stands in front of them, very sweaty, the morning everything goes wrong. 

All of the Engineering seniors stare at him intently.

Between pants he finally says, “Ram wants to move up the fight to tomorrow.”


	5. make my eyes open and dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> soft hours return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am going to try for at the bare minimum, _weekly updates_ , and especially with what's been happening in the United States, it's a lil difficult to be in the best mindset for writing. I'm learning about how to become definitively anti-racist, the factors that contributed to our current situation (i.e. the why protests are occurring, how people are reacting, etc.), and much more. I encourage you all to do the same. 
> 
> Even if you can't donate or protest, go out and sign those petitions if you can, email/call local legislators, have some open dialogue with your friends and family (if you can, my anxiety screams no confrontation at me too, for those of you who are worried about that) and **learn learn learn**.

**~~four~~ one day until someone is gonna die **

Tension coated the atmosphere. It was already there with how frantically Boss, Tee, Bohn, and somewhat Mek, were cramming for their exam later that evening, but Phu’s words amplified it to an unfathomable degree. They would look pretty normal to the regular eye, just a group of engineering students sitting at a table, but if you look closer, the cocktail of shock and the stress as bodies tensed up, show more than that. 

Bohn gets up, “What if I say no?” At the same time, King asks, “Why?”

Phu plops down next to Tee, who easily wraps an arm around his waist. “Either you show up, or you forfeit. And to be honest, nobody really knows why. He texted Duen this morning, and that was it.”

“Since when?” Bohn says, very much outraged, “This isn’t fair. Did Duen have a say in this?”

“It’s his challenge,” Phu explains, “So I guess his rules.”

Everyone looks ready to protest, but there was no definite way around that logic. Based off how the past trials had gone, it made much sense.

“Something’s up with Ram,” he continues, “but he hasn’t told anyone what, even Duen. And it’s scaring him.” The confusion disperses a little bit, but not completely. King can’t help but think none of it makes sense.

** **** **  


**~~five~~ two days until someone is gonna die **

Technically, King doesn’t have to go to campus so early today because his morning class isn’t meeting during testing week. And no hangover, which is a definite plus. But, he isn’t thinking as he rises out of bed to water his plants and pat each leaf with every greeting. Instincts overtake him when he puts on his uniform and prepares his customary breakfast of toast and tea.

It isn’t until he’s sitting at his little table, thumbing through some plant blogs that he sees the date and truly realizes he could roll back into bed and sleep for as long as he wants. Economically, it would make more sense for him to stop his routine now before he walked out of the door, expended the energy to go to the bus stop, spent the credits for his bus ride, and wasted his phone and AirPod’s battery to listening to music. 

He’s already done so much; it’d be weird not to complete it. While the points do make him sway, his determination has more influence. He downs the rest of his cup and gets up to leave the dishes in his sink. After brushing his teeth and a few goodbyes to his plants, he locks the door to his apartment.

The walk, albeit pointless, is as peaceful and calming as it usually is. The sun has barely risen but casts the sky a beautiful shade of pink, dying the clouds a sherbet orange. The morning is cool and ruffles his hair with a slight breeze.

He’s happy that he decided to come out today.

However, that feeling is immediately overturned on the bus. When he gets on, King can immediately tell that something is off. People have shifted aside one seat or pushed back a row. He notices the small group of tourists sitting in the front. The end of this bus line takes them downtown, a popular space. But why, why this early? Businesses aren’t even open then. 

The driver shoots him a semi apologetic look. As a frequent rider, King can see that his frustration is very much reflected by the other passengers. The nice lady in the front sits in the spot the guy who normally reads his newspaper quietly is, who now takes up one of the two spots where two workers commute together, and so on. It’s a really inconvenient chain reaction. 

And the college is the first real stop where people actually get off.

The bus is full, save a singular free seat near the front. King scrambles for it and politely greets the old woman sitting next to him. 

The next stops collect a few riders, until finally, although he’s on the opposite side of the bus, King knows that they’re at Ram’s stop. 

Nobody gets on for a couple of heart-pounding moments. Then, Ram runs, and he looks worse than King could expect, like worse than that other time. He watches the younger look at their customary spot, just to cause confusion. Then he actively searches the bus until their eyes lock. Ram pushes gently past a few people before standing in front of King.

“You okay?” he immediately asks. Any response of affirmation couldn’t convince the senior. Although his shirt is actually buttoned correctly, it’s barely tucked into his pants. The tie around his neck is secured only by a singular loop. Practical, but messy. Ram is stomping his foot down to put his shoe on and almost kicks the person behind him as he lifts his leg to fit it properly. King sees his notes are secure in the younger’s hand, brightly highlighted and systematically annotated. 

But the biggest godsend was the glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. They were simple, basic circle glasses, and King shouldn’t be as shocked as he was, but he really really was.

“You need glasses?” his mouth prioritizes immediately after.

Amidst his worry, Ram squints at him, somewhat teasingly, and nods. His eyebrows do that weird but suggestive wave, causing King to burst into a fit of laughter. He laughs a bit harder when Ram almost falls back as the bus lurches forward. 

“Did you study well, at least? Do you know your information? Did my notes help?”

King knows the answers to all of his questions are probably yes’s, knowing how good of a student Ram can be. He tries hard and doesn’t let up in his efforts. King had checked up on him last night, only to be told not tonight, a sad face, and then a succinct see you tomorrow. 

After seeing his nods, King reprimands, “You better. My notes are phenomenal.”

Ram nods again. He wraps an arm around a bar and holds the notes in his view while attempting to fix his tie with one hand. The efforts frustrate King, so he offers to do it for the younger.

“Come closer.” Ram shuffles towards him, so closely that King can now see the individual hairs of his unshaven chin. He pushes him back just a little bit. His hand feels hot against the other’s hard chest and blames their proximity for the warmth that begins to grow in his cheeks. If Ram notices, he doesn’t say anything. He probably doesn’t, being so fixated on his notes. 

It’s quiet as King’s fingers work nimbly to undo the loose knot. While yes, the two of them are normally quiet together, it feels different today, heavy even. He pushes the shirt collar up and tucks the strip of fabric under it, pressing it against his neck. The proper motions happen by themselves, as they should after doing them for the last few years. He finally pulls the knot up when he’s done. He makes some slight adjustments so that they fit King’s personal criteria of perfection. And when they do, he pushes the collar back down. Hands press firmly down the sides of Ram’s shoulder to straighten the shirt.

“Done,” he mutters quietly, more for himself if anyone. 

Ram pulls away pretty quickly with an unspoken thanks. Then he unexpectedly makes eye contact with King. He raises his eyebrows, asking what he wants. Out of the corner of his eye, King spots the frantic movement of the loose end of Ram’s shirt being shaken in his hand.

Does he want him to tuck his shirt into his pants? Isn’t that kind of crossing the line? Not even just a bit, but a lot?

The satisfied but slightly mischievous smile on Ram’s face makes him realize that the younger had just been teasing him. In an effort to hide his flustering, King rolls his eyes dramatically. But he isn’t successful; his reaction seems to have broadened the other’s grin.

King sits back in his seat, crosses his arms, and pouts, just a little. Ram takes a moment to pat King lightly on the head, without taking his eyes off the packet. It’s blatantly disrespectful and if it were anyone else, he would deck the junior in the face. The bus hits that one bump, something that doesn’t normally disturb them but often displaces a standing passenger. Ram is no different and swings dramatically into the pole. King thinks its karmic justice. 

Feeling slightly bad for the younger, he asks him if he needs a crash course on any of the concepts. His eyes brighten a little. Ram quickly flips to the end, where one of the pages has been folded. It’s one of the harder magnetism problems that even King had been initially puzzled by. But after cracking its code, it was easy enough to explain. After ten minutes, King is happy to see that confusion no longer clouds Ram’s expression. As the younger is attempting to take advantage of his offer again, looking for another question to be explained, the bus stops.

Ram sighs a little bit, almost a bit defeated. 

“You’re going to do great,” King reassures while collecting his things, “Don’t worry too much.” 

He follows Ram, and through his pleading eyes, he understands that he still wants him to explain the geometric optics problem. King, of course, does. He’s slightly surprised when the junior doesn’t bother turning towards the Medical plaza, but he doesn't question it. He does, however, shoot King a surprised look when the normally surrounded table is empty.

“None of them would willingly wake up this early.” Ram’s eyes never leave him and become questioning.

“I’m not them,” he somewhat explains. The junior seems to accept this reasoning. He closes the packet as they walk past the courtyard, even going so far as handing it to King. He watches as the young haphazardly tucks his shirt into his pants before making grabby hands back at the papers.

“Smooth.” Ram ignores the comment. King continues to try and maintain a conversation.

“Do you have any other exams today?” The younger nods. “When? Can’t be noon because of math. Three?” He nods again.

“Do you want to actually come to math?” Ram stares at him as if he came from another planet. “It wouldn’t hurt,” he reconciles. “Unless you need to study for your exam?” A complicated expression appears on Ram’s face, a nonsensical mix of both panic and acceptance. 

He maneuvers his phone out of his back pocket and types something into it. King’s phone immediately buzzes.

 **Private Chat between cool boy and 👑**  
_08:49_

 **cool boy**  
Linguistics.

King stares back and forth between the text and the person before him. “How the hell did you end up taking that? Is it one of those humanities core requirements that they advertised as being like a science? Oh, you poor thing.”

 **cool boy**  
It is, but nothing like you’ve ever studied.

Ram releases an exasperated sigh.

“If you’ve really given up that much, then come to math with me! It’ll be kind of relaxing for you, I bet to not have to expend your brain that much.”

He sees the junior’s fingers move. Before he can get too far, King acknowledges that ditching is probably more relaxing, but he’s trying to find a middle ground since he really needs to attend this class.

They’ve reached what King assumes is the testing room, its door wide open and space filled with antsy students. Ram’s eyes do not waver at the proposition. King sighs.

“We’ll get food after your Linguistics exam. We’ll split the price because even though you’re ditching me, I feel bad for you.”

Ram waves the senior off in annoyance. 

“You’ve got this, Cool Boy,” King reassures. He puts a fist up in determination. Ram gently pushes it down. He pats his head, again, as a departing gesture, and finally disappears into the room.

** **** **  


In comparison to the three hours of free time he had earlier, going to class was a drag. He’d very much enjoyed his time walking around campus and observing the surprisingly wide variety of foliage on campus, which he also had to attribute to the tropical climate, but he was nonetheless pleased.

He sits in his seat near the back, and close to the aisle. A notebook, a printout of the PowerPoint, pens, and highlighters settle on his desk. He looks over the mostly blue class and waits like everyone else. 

Something hits the back of his chair lightly, causing King to automatically scoot in. Next to him a chair unexpectedly scrapes the floor. Nobody sat next to him in class.

King turns and is blinded by the white shirt, but is immediately consoled by Ram’s characteristic stoic face and dreamcatcher tattoo.

“Cool Boy,” he exclaims excitedly, “You actually came.”

 **Private Chat between cool boy and 👑**  
_11:53_

 **cool boy**  
You're paying for dinner.

King feigns hurt. “And I thought you came,” he throws his hand onto his heart, “for me.”

Ram’s expression cracks a bit, revealing a small smile. 

A few minutes later their professor walks into the room. She sets up her laptop and projects a PowerPoint titled “Exam Results.”

“I know,” she says, “I’m faster than all of your other professors. You’ll be grateful later. Unless you failed.”

King sincerely hopes he didn't.

“These are your raw scores, so be wary of that for now.”

She changes the slide to reveal a pie and a bar chart of the grades. They show the same thing, that over half the class had scored beneath 60%. He really hopes he hadn’t fallen in that percentile.

“I’ll be posting the final grades in my hallway, but for those of you now,” she changes the slide, “Here you are.”

It’s a chart. One side has a student ID number, and the other a percent. At least it’s numerical in order. King takes a while to find his score and is relieved to see that he did scrape an A-. When he looks over at Ram, there’s no expression.

King can’t help but notice there are a few numbers that seem to be starkly different from the combinations of other students. However, right now, Ram is the only freshman in this class. He looks at the first score next to it. 32 doesn’t make sense. Neither does a 68. Even a 71? Ram’s notes are absurdly impeccable, homework, when King’s seen it, is perfection. Then he lands on the highest score.

“Oh my god.”

“So, if you want to know about this score,” her cursor circles the 98.5, “Just to let all of you upperclassmen know, yes, you were beaten out by a freshman. Who doesn’t even come to lecture.”

The whole class murmurs quietly. 

She looks over the class, pausing a little bit on what King can only assume is Ram. While working on changing the PowerPoint, she says, “A pleasure, Mr. Vera, to see you’ve finally graced us with your presence.”

The murmurs grow louder. King’s phone buzzes against the table.

 **Private Chat between cool boy and 👑**  
_12:12_

 **cool boy**  
I'm never coming to class again.

When he looks over, Ram has his head in his arms, resting on the table. His ears are tinged red.

While everyone else conspires about who it is, King laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will attempt to post every Saturday/Sunday and maybe even Friday if i'm feeling *spontaneous*  
> \---  
> but, I didn't like how this chapter ended. I plan on updating tomorrow, so look forward to that :))


	6. your fingertips melt my heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the day continues; king has irresponsible friends that are tbh many of us amidst peak procrastination, but all he wants is a nice dinner, bohn to not be miserable the rest of his life, and his sweater back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, yes i am a day late, but also this is a thicc chapter, so pls appreciate. 
> 
> in light of current events (we really do support the BLM protests here) even if you can't donate or protest, go out and sign those petitions if you can, email/call local legislators, have some open dialogue with your friends and family (if you can, my anxiety screams no confrontation at me too, for those of you who are worried about that) and **learn learn learn**.

**~~five~~ two days until someone is gonna die **

The moment their professor concludes the class, he watches Ram move faster than he ever has before. Even after messily throwing his belongings into his desk, King is barely able to catch up. He has to yell, “Cool Boy!” a couple of times, causing many heads to turn, but King doesn’t think it can mortify Ram, who has reached peak embarrassment, any more than he already is.

Gratefully for King, the younger does slow down a bit. He isn’t sure if the red in the other’s cheeks is from his physical exertion or embarrassment; probably both. They’re headed towards a part of campus that he hasn’t visited since his freshman year; the Liberal Arts department. The exterior is more colorful than he remembered, coated in a poetically red brick everywhere, especially in comparison to the whitewashed walls of the Engineering plaza. There’s already a small crowd in front of what he can only assume is the testing site. King catches a look at one of the diagrams and immediately sympathizes with the younger. However, the two of them don’t join the group, and instead, take purchase against a wall a few meters away from them. 

For the duration of their entire walk, Ram has had his bag tucked in front of him like a kangaroo pouch. When they arrive, he puts his palms out in front of him. Confused at how strongly the gesture is being emphasized, King mimics Ram, just to receive two handfuls of backpack. The junior starts digging furiously through its contents. 

King asks what he’s looking for, to which a text answers a pencil. A bit cheeky, the senior pulls one out of the open bag and wags it in his face. With an unimpressed roll of his eyes, Ram elaborates that the one he wants is a good luck charm; one that his mother had written his name on. 

While King admires the sentiment, time seems to not care for such sweet emotions, only leaving them four minutes before the exam starts. The doors had already engulfed the crowd. 

“You’ll be late if you don’t go soon,” King chides. Ram seems to not listen to him and continues sifting through his bag. 

In a last-ditch effort, he carves off some paint of the pencil in his hand and writes “Cool Boy.”

“Cool Boy,” he hands the pencil to Ram, “Use this one.” King receives a very skeptical look. “I am the best student in my grade for a reason. Maybe my talent rubbed off onto it.” The junior takes it gingerly. 

King plants his hands on the other’s shoulders to shake some sense into him. “Pencils don’t give you luck. It’s all in that brain of yours. I know it sounds stupid, but if you believe that you’ll pass, you will pass.”

Ram nods a little, maybe even pumping himself up. Some semblance of a smile appears on his face; the corners of his mouth pull up slightly. King lets go of him. He’s only slightly disappointed when he gets a wave as a goodbye. 

When the doors of the classroom close, King feels small in the big space of the department. He thinks about leaving, but there’s really nowhere else for him to go. So he unceremoniously sits against the wall, and mentally wills for Ram to pass.

He pulls his phone out and scrolls through it mindlessly until he finds a text from Mek. In the unread, or more specifically accidentally ignored until right now, message, Ram is asked about the specifics that he’ll be renegotiating. 

The main issue between Bohn and Duen were their communication skills. Bohn hates taking the easy way out of things; his perceived “perfect plans” doused in unnecessary complexity gave off the wrong impression, that he was dragging Duen along for a simple game. He’d also fall into jealous silence pretty quickly and expected his partner to understand what was wrong in the situation, that it was their fault for the sudden changes in their relationship. 

But King sincerely thinks Duen isn’t much better. The boy is sheltered and sweet, but way too sheltered. Like this man needs to have had some relationship experience, with a couple of people even, before he’d end up with someone like Bohn. King doesn’t deny Duen’s interest in his best friend, but he’s just very flawed in showing it. 

One of their squabbles happened at the mall when Bohn had walked off to buy them movie tickets and a young man started flirting with Duen. When asked if Bohn was his boyfriend, Duen he said no (this was during their weird labeless time where they were definitely exclusive but just in a non-traditional way; King hates thinking about it because it makes him dizzy). Duen had taken their status too literally. When Bohn returned and saw a phone being presented to Duen, he was immediately protective of his partner. However, once the young man clarified, saying that Duen claimed to be single, things soon got messy. Miscommunication became so characteristic of their relationship. 

Bohn thought Duen didn’t see any substance to their relationship, while Duen was left very much confused. King isn’t sure how they made up from that one, but they did and soon enough, he was back to hearing very detailed and mushy stories about their love life. He found the oscillation to be pretty annoying, to be thoroughly honest. Although he doesn’t want his friend to lose the person he so clearly adores, he really wants them to have a more proper, healthier relationship.

So the first thing would be that Bohn and Duen shouldn’t just break things off, but swear that they would be transparent with each other (something that King thinks is a given) by not quickly jumping to conclusions, thinking through situations, and talking things out thoroughly. Honestly, even if Bohn somehow wins King will probably give him this lecture (again). Then, for Duen, this trials/fight scenario can’t happen again. Although understandably, his friends feel protective of their undeniably sweetest member, it’s a lot for Bohn to do whenever he messes up. And Bohn messes up a lot.

And definitely, King wants to not play this mediating role anymore (this would extend to both friend groups). He feels like this contributes to the aforementioned point. Although reassuring Bohn during rocky moments was definitely part of the bro code, King knows he’s not alone in becoming frustrated at how recently they’re so contingently related to Duen. From what he’s seen, Duen is just as prideful as Bohn, albeit he isn’t as overt about it. By involving their friends, both sides of the relationship are trying to strengthen their interpretations of an often simple situation, regardless if they are accurate or not.

So if Ram wins, instead of the two breaking up permanently, they’ll be apart from each other for a month to grow on personal communication skills. Because the honor system obviously doesn’t work, they can police their friends. And then, if their feelings are still intense after all that time, they can continue on with their relationship. He’s sure the younger will be ecstatic to hear about eliminating involvement in their disputes. King hopes that he can completely cancel any more fights or trials from occurring, but if it needs to bank on Bohn’s victory, then so be it. 

Maybe he can get Ram to end the fight quickly, for Bohn’s sake.

 **gofundme.com/teach-bohn-proper-communication-skills (5)**  
_15:27  
_

**plant bottom**  
why bohn’s loss to ram won’t be that tragic:  
instead of permanently breaking up with duen  
you just don’t interact with him for a month and if yall are still in love then that's cool  
but you actually have to learn how to talk to each other properly  
and we’ll be on your asses about this because we care  


**dead in six days**  
ONE MONTH  
WTF  
sounds a bit harsh

 **mek’s wife**  
its a lot better than never being together

 **plant bottom**  
also  
would you prefer the fight to end quickly or have a chance to fight _@dead in six days_

_plant bottom changed dead in six days's nickname to dead in five days_

**dead in five days**  
hmmmmmmm  
does it matter if i’m gonna win lmao

 **boss's husband**  
I see you’re still unrealistically optimistic  
King’s already going to stop you from losing the love of your life  
Just end your suffering early

 **mek’s wife**  
isnt it kinda romantic that he still wants to fight  
it shows he cares

 **boss's husband**  
He can’t really care if he’s broken beyond normalcy

 **dead in five days**  
nah i still want a chance  
it fuels my determination

 **boss's husband**  
You mean false hope?

 **plant bottom**  
okayokay

 **tee-shirt**  
KING  
THANK GOD  
YOURE ONLINE

 **plant bottom**  
???

 **tee-shirt**  
CAN YOU EXPLAIN 23 IN THE STUDY PACKET

 **mek’s wife**  
your already studyin 4 fluid

 **tee-shirt**  
I UNDERSTAND N O T H I N G

 **dead in five days**  
same lol  
lets fail together

 **boss's husband**  
we got this packet last month  
you’re only on 23  
we were supposed to work through four or five problems every day

 **mek’s wife**  
yes, hubby we get it  
you is much disappoint

 **tee-shirt**  
IT WAS A “RECOMMENDATION”

 **plant bottom**  
_@tee-shirt_ I don’t have my stuff with me rn  
I’m not home

 **tee-shirt**  
oh wtf  
when will you be home

 **plant bottom**  
tbh idrk

 **dead in five days**  
wya rn

 **plant bottom**  
campus

 **tee-shirt**  
i’m at bohn’s  
he could come get you

 **plant bottom**  
i mean if you can bring me back by 6 sure

 **mek’s wife**  
mek and i are on our waysss

 **dead in five days**  
I’ll be there in 15

King starts down the flight of stairs. He really hopes Ram passes his test.

** **** **  


The words won’t stop coming out of his mouth. He’s essentially doing a crash course of the whole class. While Bohn and Tee are staring at him like he’s god incarnate, Mek is on the couch looking through his own packet. Boss has attached himself next to the other, although he should really be at the kitchen counter with Bohn and Tee. Mek seems to share King’s sentiment, actively pushing Boss away, but he’s barely budging.

“Do you not care about your grade,” King can barely hear.

“I’ll fail anyway.”

“Just try to learn with King here, at least.”

“I did for the first few problems but then things got complicated.” He draws out the last syllable, whining like a child. Mek is still relatively unbothered. After a while, however, he casually loops an arm around his shoulders and stops telling him to leave. 

King, frustrated, cards his fingers through his hair, huffs out a breath, and continues with his explanations. Now, after two hours, they’re a little more than a third of the way through, up to 35 in the packet. Out of 100, however, it isn’t the most comforting of rates, especially when the concepts get exponentially harder later in the content. In between the long explanations, Mek walks up to him to ask about a specific problem in the later quadrant of the packet. Tee takes one look at the question and he seems ready to faint.

“Oh wow, I’m actually going to fail this exam.” 

King tunes out everyone’s complaints and uses the momentary freedom to check his phone. Unluckily for him, he’d been so preoccupied, he missed a text from Ram.

 **Private Chat between cool boy and** **👑**  
_17:22_

 **cool boy**  
I just finished.  
Where are you?

He looks at Bohn, “Can you get me back to the school?”

“Now? It’s barely past 5:30.”

“Work traffic,” King explains, blessing the current time. His friend nods, accepting the reasoning.

_ 17:33 _

**👑**  
sorry, just saw this  
i’ll be back on campus by 5:50  
wait for me at the front of the school

 **cool boy**  
okay

He shoves his phone back into his pocket, blessing that nobody had seen him. Unfortunately, however, everyone immediately attempts to beg King to stay. He promises that he’ll be back later that evening if they’re still there. Maybe. He isn’t sure. Unsatisfied, everyone gets the bright idea to cram into the backseat so that they can squeeze out every last second of time with King. 

Although he’s somewhat flattered, he’d been banking on mentally preparing himself on the car ride over. Instead, in those fifteen minutes of what could have been bliss, King continues to be bombarded with questions. It takes all of his willpower to not throw himself out of the car. He barely completely answers two before they end up back on campus.

He can see Ram buying ice cream from the local old man and his cart. It’s a sweet and wholesome moment. King propels himself out of the car to join him, waving back and saying goodbye to his friends at the same time. Steps away, he still hears them bickering about who gets the shotgun spot (spoiler alert: it’ll probably be Tee because Boss won’t let go of Mek). 

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he automatically thinks it’s Ram. However, both of the younger’s hands are preoccupied with eating his dessert.

It’s the group chat.

 **gofundme.com/teach-bohn-proper-communication-skills (5)**  
_17:48  
_

**tee-shirt**  
You left us  
FOR RAM

 **mek’s wife**  
HMMMMM  
K I N G  
IS THERE REALLY NOTHING GOING ON 

**boss's husband**  
I think he's just trying to save Bohn’s ass

 **mek’s wife**  
N O T H I N G  
BECAUSE EVER SINCE THAT PROFILE PIC THING

 **tee-shirt**  
b u t flUID

 **plant bottom**  
B U T BOHN’S LIFE

 **mek’s wife**  
YALL SEEM REAL CLOSE

When he directs his attention back to Ram, there’s a spoon in front of his face. He pushes it away.

“You’re actually just spoiling your appetite.” Ram rolls his eyes. “Okay, whatever, where do you want to eat?” He does the cute thing where he tilts his head to one side out of confusion. “You just finished finals; I’ll treat you to wherever you want.”

King doesn’t know if his wallet will regret his words, but the thought immediately disappears when Ram circles his hand around his wrist and pulls him away. He’ll ask about the fight at the restaurant.

** **** **  


Apparently, Ram is a creature of habit; they’re back at Pin’s restaurant. King is slightly regretful about not choosing the restaurant because he could have given himself a home stadium advantage, but that shouldn’t change the situation, right? He’ll be able to talk to Ram about this and everything will be perfectly fine because his requests are perfectly reasonable, and there’s no way (NO WAY) Ram will react negatively. He knows he won’t but the possibility of it happening forces King to mentally map out an escape route. The best way would probably be to go by Pin’s cart and then-

A vibration under his palm pulls him out of his trance. 

“Are you okay?” King reads, “You look really nervous.” He laughs awkwardly a bit. “I’m fine,” he answers.

When Pin comes with the menú King points out the same dishes, but this time requests some beers. Ram’s eyebrows shoot up.

“It’ll be a good time.” And he needs the liquid courage. 

He’s grateful when the bottles appear before the food; maybe he’ll be able to spit it out quickly. Ram pours both of them drinks and they do a quick clinking of cups.

Conversation starts smoothly enough. King asks about the exam, causing emotion to drain out of his eyes. Ram stares somewhat forlornly into the distance.

“That bad?” The younger nods very quickly in confirmation. As King fills his cup for the third time, he realizes something. If Ram was in his math class, how had he not seen him that day of testing? The younger tells him that he’d sat at the very front of the room, and been the first to leave. Also, an innate bias that there were not many lowerclassmen in the course.

They fall into a comfortable silence, maintaining their eye contact. Even with the alcohol in his system, King doesn’t think about it too much. For anyone else, it would be really weird, but King feels obligated to match the intensity in front of him, to maintain some kind of connection. Ram’s expression morphs into something that borderlines concern, but King doesn’t know what to do about it. He lets his fingers twist the cup lightly by the brim. The junior then breaks their eye contact to text him.

 **Private Chat between cool boy and** **👑**  
_18:19_

 **cool boy**  
You seem pensive.  
Is there something you want to say?

King sighs as he rests his chin in his hand, allowing a small smile to appear on his face. “Fine, Cool Boy, you caught me.” He gulps down his half-full cup and wipes his mouth with his wrist. Ram moves immediately to refill the cup. Any concerns are forced into the back of his mind, muffled by the alcohol in his system. “Could you not completely decimate Bohn when you fight him?”

Ram’s eyebrows furrow, but King isn’t sure if he’s being taken seriously. He seems to be amused by his tipsy state. “That’s my baseline request, but I want to change up the conditions to his loss.” The sentence seems to surprise the younger. “As much as I love him, I don’t think he’ll realistically win.” King pulls out a pen from his shoulder bag. He takes the napkin next to him as the victim.

“Cool Boy. I’m like a lawyer,” King giggles. Ram stares at him, disbelief plastered on his face but nods nonetheless. 

He repeats what he’d told his friends, to reform rather than abolish Duen and Bohn’s relationship, that as friends they would put in some work to separate them, by helping them learn more about the world (Duen) and how to communicate better with each other (Bohn). He continues to describe the elimination of friend intervention and just stopping the trials from happening again. As he’s writing down some key words and related arrows, King gauges Ram’s reaction. He’s returned to having no expression and staring down at him and his napkin. He shows him the messily drawn diagram.

“So,” King begins, “How does it sound?”

Ram shakes his head as he sips his beer.

“Wait, really? Why not? I know you feel really protective of Duen and everything, but he obviously loves Bohn and I can tell you that those feelings are definitely reciprocated. Yes Bohn is also the biggest fool, but he also has the biggest heart.”

Ram shakes his head again.

“I really do think that Bohn can learn to be less indirect about his relationship approaches; he’s more of a mixed media kind of guy with gestures and mushy words. But if he streamlines his technique, Duen will be swept off his feet, even more than he is now!”

He just receives a hard stare.

“Why can’t you just take my word for this?” King whines, “My judgement isn’t that bad.”

 **Private Chat between cool boy and** **👑**  
_18:34_

 **cool boy**  
But you’re friends with Bohn.

“That’s you being biased, and you know it!”

Ram holds up two fingers. “Two? Wait. Two months? If I change the condition to two months you’ll be okay with it?” He nods.

“How about one and a half months?” he counters. Ram holds up another finger. “THREE?!” 

King reaches over the table to press down the new added digit. “Two, I’ll do two,” he says desperately. Ram just adds another finger. He uses both hands to hold down all of the fingers except for the original two. “I said I’d do two,” King essentially begs, “Why are you so mean?” He pouts. With his free hand, Ram pats his head and then pushes him back down in his seat.

Pin appeared next to them at some point and was trying to maneuver her way around their unconventional position.

“That’s a really pretty bracelet you’ve got there,” King can’t help but point out, “The purple really suits your skin tone.”

She smiles. “Thank you. It was a gift.”

“From who?” King points to Ram, “Was it you, Cool Boy?” The indicated boy crosses his arms in an X.

“No, it was my boyfriend,” Pin smiles dreamily, “It’s a couple’s set.”

“Like matchy matchy?” King continues.

She seems amused but shakes her head. “Only in the colors.” Her eyes squint to stare at him a little. “You can’t actually be drunk after only two beers,” Pin says.

“And a half,” he feels obligated to add, “And I’m only tipsy.” To be clear, he wasn’t a drinker, very much used to being one of the designated (more) sober people in the group. “I just needed to drink enough to talk to Ram here.”

Pin sticks her tray under her arm and brings her hands to her cheeks. “Like a confession?”

King stares at Ram who’s very busy trying to chase off his best friend.

~~Maybe. But not now.~~

That is: INCORRECT. Brain, reject that thought; it’s the alcohol talking, and King has to tell himself that he simply finds Ram intriguing. ITS ONLY A GENERAL INTEREST IN THE WEIRD. SO what iF he LoOKs gooD wiTh his hAir Down and with glasses.

His words aren’t very convincing, so he asks for water in order ~~to deny his feelings~~ to try and sober up.

** **** **  


Ram is a phenomenal drinker. After King starts nursing a cup of water while they eat, Ram finishes off the two and a half leftover beers. And he holds that same indifferent face for the most part. If anything, he seems slightly more prone to emotions, with smiles and laughter. (He wishes he could hear him laugh more often. He doesn’t expect his laugh to be so melodic and soft, but King can’t help but adore the sound).

He’s able to convince the younger to follow him on his search to buy something sweet, more specifically strawberry milk. Ram looks taken aback at his drink choice, but is immediately converted after a single sip. King has to take the cup back more than should be necessary on the bus ride back. This time, they’re able to settle in their regular spots and into their regular habits, an AirPod in each ear. 

Ram is showing King his music. It’s definitely more erratic than his personal preferences, but there are some interesting melodies that he finds himself liking. 

When they reach his bus stop, Ram doesn’t get off. He tells King that he wants to make sure he gets home safely. The senior adamantly insists that he’s sober, but his words seem to go in one ear and out the other. The younger turns the volume up a little to prove his point; nothing King could say would convince him to not. The bus rolls away.

About ten minutes later, they reach the stop for his house. Ram moves to get up, but King immediately grasps his shirt sleeve and pulls him back down. He tells him that his apartment is a few steps further. When they get off, the night feels heavy, mostly from the humidity, and maybe something else.

They’re standing in front of his building.

“Thank you for dinner and for keeping me company,” Ram says, quietly.

King thinks he’s being delusional for a moment, until he realizes that yes, Ram had uttered verbal words to him. 

“You actually talked to me, Cool Boy” he states, unable to hide his shock, “You said a full sentence.” He pauses to count, “Nine complete words.”

Ram smiles slightly, but doesn’t utter anything else.

“Come on, say something.”

“Something,” the younger answers cheekily.

“You can literally say anything,” he pushes.

“Anything.” Two can play at this game.

“I like King.”

Ram opens his mouth without thinking. “I like-” King stares at him expectantly. Instead of finishing the sentence, he walks away. He doesn’t bother stopping him and just laughs at the retreating figure.

“Text me when you get home! And remember to give me back my sweatshirt!”

** **** **  


Back in his room, King immediately sends pictures of his packet in hopes that it’ll fend his friends off for a bit. It only kind of works; they now have questions about the solutions. He also tells them about the slight change in plans. Bohn freaks out about his time apart from Duen being doubled but doesn't threaten to kill him, which King takes as a complete win. Any question about Ram, however, he ignores.

** **** **  


**Private Chat between cool boy and** **👑**  
_21:10_

 **cool boy**  
You’ll get it back eventually.

 **👑**  
wot  
why not soon

 **cool boy**  
I like it.  
It’s comfortable to wear.  
24529327.jpg

It’s a mirror selfie. The ash green sweatshirt fits him well on the shoulders with its sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Ram’s face is half covered by the phone, head slightly tilted to the right. With that head position and free arm braced against the kitchen counter, he seems to be intentionally displaying his tattoos

 **👑**  
You look good.

 **cool boy**  
I know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me to y'all:  
> 
> 
> (Eric (Son Youngjae) of The Boyz)


	7. strange dejavú trapped in question

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what's up with ram? only kinda sort of find out today!  
> what's up with king? only kinda sort of find out today!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> henlo todos; apologies for the late update (kinda rhymed lolol)
> 
> more importantly: black lives matter as they always do and breonna taylor's murderers still have their jobs so sign [this petition](https://www.change.org/p/andy-beshear-justice-for-breonna-taylor) to bring justice to her unlawful death
> 
> also here's [a nifty video from john oliver](https://youtu.be/Wf4cea5oObY) about the police. it's a good watch imo. he is also significantly more superior to other white men because he's sponsored the marble olympics (what pure wholesomeness)

**~~four~~ one day until someone is gonna die **

“He said he was sick this morning,” King excuses, almost immediately, “And that’s why he hadn’t been on the bus.” Ram’s text had come as King was eating his breakfast. He left the younger a feel better message with a sticker of a bear blowing kisses, hoping that it would maybe make him feel somewhat better. 

Who is King to assume the opposite? However, Phu looks very skeptical. “Ram doesn’t ‘get sick’ and even if he does, it’s not enough for him to willingly miss school.”

“Isn’t he done with all of his midterms?” King supplements, “So he could actually be sick. I mean, the human body is a magical thing with its survival instincts and other biology things." 

“How do you know that?”

King wants to bring up yesterday, and how nothing had seemed odd. But no one really knew about how close he and Ram were, except that they came to school together, and on the surface, that looked like pure coincidence. Neither of them talked about each other to their respective friend groups: why would they? Mek was the only exception, but King was also tipsy. Overall, it would seem really random.

At first he excuses common sense for the last thing, but Phu's clear lack of amusement spurs the senior to be more serious. He brings up the discussion they had about the fight’s conditions and how Ram had mentioned it in passing. Phu nods his head, to everyone’s surprise knowing about the changed circumstances, but there’s still a thin veil of doubt over his expression. Thankfully, King doesn’t have to withstand it for much longer. About a quarter till nine, the seniors at the table watch Tee press a soft kiss to the top of Phu’s head and guide him to wherever he’s taking his math midterm. 

“Did you do any ‘training’?” Boss teases.

“I already put my money in the betting pool last night,” Mek says, “Please tell me all of you did, too.”

“Are we actually putting in double?” Boss asks. Mek nods solemnly.

“If there’s ‘something up’ with Ram, and he moved the fight up, Bohn is more fucked than we originally thought,” he wraps an arm around their now slightly panicked friend.

King barely tunes into the conversation, almost robotically putting his money onto the table. Questions rushing through his head muffle the conversation. Is Ram not really sick? What’s happened to him? Why did he move the fight up? Is he okay? He pulls his phone out and as discreetly as he can, texts him.

 **Private Chat between cool boy and 👑**  
_08:58_

 **👑**  
How are you feeling?

 **cool boy**  
Could be better.

 **👑**  
Just give me your address  
And I can come over after my exam  
Bring you some soup to make you feel better

 **cool boy**  
It’s okay.  
I’m fine. 

**👑**  
Are you sure?

 **cool boy**  
Yeah.  
I’ll be okay. 

King wants to push him farther, but it feels wrong. Maybe he could ask Duen for Ram’s address? But that also feels like that's crossing a line. He’s just Ram’s senior; why would he want to know his address? 

Why did this bother him so much?

A hand shaking his shoulder brings him back into the conversation.

“You okay?” Tee asks, somewhat concerned. King nods, as convincingly as he can.

“Fluid Dynamics can kill Bohn first,” he declares, trying to take his mind off of the situation, “And then we can make some sort of plan.”

It’s as if everyone suddenly realized that they had a midterm in less than six hours. They’re asking King more and more questions as the deadline approaches. Mek seems to have given up for the most part, declaring that he knows as much as he can. He settles for acting as a cushion for Boss, who leans back onto the other senior as he asks him about the questions he’s been answering. Tee has accidentally fallen asleep, leaving Bohn and King to work together.

However, reality has finally sunk into his friend’s body. King can tell he’s trying to focus on the problems in front of him, but he can’t.

“I’m actually screwed.”

“Glad to see you could say it sober,” King somewhat jokes. He knows that he and the rest of their friends shit on Bohn a lot, but they do sincerely care about him. It hurts him to see his best friend so torn and defeated. “Two months,” he reassures, “Two months won’t be terrible.”

“And then there’s this exam,” Bohn continues, “That I barely know, and probably won’t pass. And it’s a requirement to graduate.”

“Bohn,” King begins, “We’ll be here with you through all of this, you know that? None of us want you to get hurt. You could always just forfeit and take the two months.”

He looks offended. “No, it’s in the mindset,” he convinces himself, “If I don’t fight, it’s like I’m saying Duen isn’t worth the effort. Not being able to be with Duen for two months feels like it’ll hurt like if I could never date him. If I have the opportunity to possibly prevent that for myself, and as pretentious as this might sound, for him too, I’m taking it.”

The determination in Bohn’s face is slightly frightening, but also touching. Any doubts about Bohn’s intentions for Duen, which honestly had been nonexistent, dissipate.

It makes King wish Ram could see this declaration, hope that it proves Bohn’s maturity.

Fuck. He shouldn’t be thinking about him. 

“And you?”

“What about me?” 

“You’re obviously worried about Ram, as much as I hate to say it,” Bohn observes. 

King wants to elaborate, almost gush, about the other day, their flirting, and their weird dynamic, but he doesn’t think it’s the right time and place. “He’s just a kid I’m mentoring,” he answers.

“I thought he was Tee’s kid.” 

“I switched him for Phu,” he fibs. Like Phu, Bohn looks at him skeptically, obviously not believing him.

“I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” he somewhat begs, “Administration would probably freak.” 

“I mean,” Bohn seems taken aback at King’s reaction, “It probably isn’t that big of a deal.” He pauses. King doesn’t realize how desperate he looks until Bohn adds, “I won’t tell man, don’t worry.”

Relief washes over him. “Okay, so how about this midterm?”

“The one I’m going to fail.”

“Now you don’t believe in your mindset shit, really?” King accuses. It causes a small smile to grow on his friend’s face. 

“Fine, fine,” he relents, “I will ace this exam and get the highest score in the class.”

“You’re still delusional?” Mek comments next to them.

“Mindset,” King and Bohn chorus. They stare at each other in disgust.

“Don’t ever do that again!” King practically screams, at the same time Bohn exclaims, “What the fuck!”

“Shut UP!” Boss pouts, “I’m trying to study.” Mek pets his head endearingly.

Bohn shoves some notes in front of King’s face, initiating an unsurprising sigh. King urges Tee awake who immediately denies his previously sleeping state and works on the problems in front of him.

** **** **  


King is usually the first person out of the testing site. Everyone knows this. He sits in the front of the class, in the seat nearest to the front desk and the aisle so that he can leave without disturbing anyone. His friends joke about it, going so far as telling him to pick up dinner for them. He has a weird hate-love relationship with the remarks because they both boost his ego a little bit, but he also becomes their source of free labor. Like every other testing period, he agrees.

He thinks about where to go. Pin’s food cart was pretty cheap with good food, and he’s pretty sure that his friends hadn’t eaten there. She would probably also know what was going on with Ram. But even Duen didn’t know, and they’re both his "best friends."

He shakes the thoughts out of his head and opens his exam packet. Formulas appear on the page as he solves questions he’s seen time and time again. His mind goes into a test-taking zone, where nothing permeates it, on autopilot.

But the customary nothingness becomes a feeding ground for thoughts he doesn’t usually have, thoughts about Ram. Because King really wants to help out the junior, but he doesn't know why or how. He really doesn’t think that Ram would lie to him, based on the relationship they’ve developed recently. However, the opposite seems to be more likely according to his close friend group. 

The thought of him not being transparent feels very wrong. Sure, Ram is quiet, but he’s always been honest with King; it’s something he doesn’t doubt. 

But then what is wrong with Ram? Unless Ram was a good actor? What if their whole relationship was constructed on lies? But also, should King even feel this scorned if that was true? Ram was just a junior to him. (Right?)

Suddenly, a breeze passes by him. Mind, a girl in his grade has approached the front. He initially assumes it’s to ask a question, except people always _raise their hands_. For their entire academic career, she’s always been second, at least that’s what he’d heard. Every exam period, King has always finished before her at least a clean ten minutes. For the first time, her test starts the pile, for the hundreds of other students. 

King checks the classroom’s clock. Just over an hour and a half, and he’s barely a quarter into the exam. How had those thoughts been so intense that he hadn’t even realized he stopped? He should have known with multitasking being a social myth but- He wills his mental interrogation to stop as much as he can, and works on the exam, one that seems no harder than any other, yet makes him feel like he has to squeeze all of the information out of his body. For the sake of precaution, after he speed writes all of the work onto the paper, he checks his work twice. There’s a few computational mistakes, which shouldn’t bother him.

Of course it does; he normally makes one mistake, maximum. 

He turns his exam in the front with about forty five minutes left in the time period, starting a third pile of packets. His professor stares at him, obviously surprised. King bows respectfully and exits. Mek and Boss are outside.

“What happened?” Mek asks, “Are you okay?”

King sighs, letting his hand wipe the front of his face in exasperation. “I feel like everyone is asking me that today,” he comments somewhat sarcastically. 

“Then the answer’s no,” Boss states. 

“How did the two of you finish so early?” King redirects.

“I finished maybe ten minutes before you, and he followed me as soon as I finished,” Mek shoots a thumb towards Boss.

“I ended up bubbling As the rest of the way down,” Boss says, almost too cheerily.

“Let’s go to the restaurant,” King proposes, “And then we’ll discuss how to save Bohn.”

“There’s less than an hour left,” Mek claims as he checks his watch, “Should we just stay?”

“We’ll just send them our location.” He starts down the stairs.

“King!” He promptly turns around to lock eyes with Tee. “What happened in there?”

“I spaced out,” telling the truth. 

“You!” Tee exclaims, “Spacing out! You’re robotic when it comes to tests. How do you space out!”

He ignores the comments as best he can and waves everyone to follow him.

** **** **  


His initial plans to visit Pin were immediately scrapped for two reasons. One, he realized that she could totally expose him for hanging out with Ram; not that it was a bad thing, but with the weird distance thing it was questionable at the least. Two, they wouldn’t have been able to eat there anyway; she had closed up shop early.

Instead, he takes them to a small hole in the wall place that they traditionally go to after exams are done. Bohn meets them at the restaurant, complaining about how the exam was stupidly difficult and how they hadn’t waited for him. All blame was put onto King, to his, honestly, little care. Then he, like everyone else, asked him about not being first to complete his test. Same excuse: spacing out. 

His phone buzzes in the middle of their conversation and his first hope is that it’s Ram. And for a split second, he thinks that it is, with how similar the names are.

**Private Chat between Ruj Vera and Thanthep King  
_18:05_**

****

****

**Ruj Vera**  
Why is your name flipped  
Not important  
What did you do to my brother  
He’s home and  
Didn’t go to school  
Our mom told me he’s sick  
Sounds like some fuckin bullshit  
He’s hoarding the dogs in his room  
And won’t leave  
Which means he’s sad

King points out what he wants ahead of time and tells Bohn to order for him.

_Thanthep King changed their nickname to King Thanthep_

**King Thanthep**  
Oh, um  
I really don’t know  
Like really

 **Ruj Vera**  
W e l l  
It’s bad  
I’ve never seen him this unresponsive  
Or i guess super responsive  
His friends showed up  
But Ram wouldn’t let them into his room  
Duen opened the door with the spare key  
Ram literally yelled at all of them to leave  
He’s never been like this

 **King Thanthep**  
Since when?

 **Ruj Vera**  
This morning  
It’s bad  
Like really bad

 **King Thanthep**  
I’m sorry that I can’t be of any help  
But why me?

 **Ruj Vera**  
Idk your dynamic with him is different

 **King Thanthep**  
If he reacted that way  
Isn’t it more likely that Duen and the others are at fault?

 **Ruj Vera**  
Idk they seemed just as clueless as you  
Do you wanna come see him?  
Maybe you can get something out of him  
It wouldn't hurt to try

Yes, he does, he really does. But if he won’t let anyone else in, how is King any different?

 **King Thanthep**  
No, it’s okay  
He seems like he needs his space  
But tell me if anything changes

 **Ruj Vera**  
Mkay

 **King Thanthep**  
Ram’s a rational guy  
He’ll tell you eventually

 **Ruj Vera**  
I hope so

Luckily, nobody says anything about his texting. Instead, Boss comments on how creased his brow his, forcing him to swat the pointing fingers away. Eventually their food comes out. 

“Do you know what I think you should do?” King says, pointing a chopstick at Bohn, “Just run in circles. Do whatever you can in the limits of a ‘boxing match.’”

“Is it officially a boxing match?” Tee asks.

“I mean yeah,” Bohn replies, “But I don’t think we have a ref.”

“So just run around the place,” Boss suggests, partially serious, “And throw in some punches. We know you can fight, but just not ‘boxing’ fight, you know?”

“If there aren’t any rules,” Mek clarifies, “Then you’re fine. Maybe kick here and there, and see how it registers with the crowd. If they-”

“There’s a crowd?” Bohn realizes.

“People aren’t betting for nothing.”

“Do some reading on boxing regulations,” King offers, “And keep those in mind, for the most part.”

“Try not to mess his face up too much,” Mek comments. King can’t help but agree a little bit.

Bohn and Boss scoff, offended. “He’ll probably punch my face in the first chance he gets!” Bohn exclaims.

“Exactly,” Boss yells, slamming his hands on the table, “Aim for his face and knock him out as quickly as possible.” Everyone stares at the magnitude of Boss’s reaction. 

“The bruising will be a shame,” Mek continues, slightly teasing Boss. He stares angrily at the normally quiet man, but the glare has no effect.

“What time is the fight?” Tee tries to prevent Boss from exploding

“7:00.”

“At least you’ll have the sunset,” Mek says, “It’ll be a pretty thing to see before you pass out.”

** **** **  


When Tee offhandedly mentions that they should get shitfaced, Bohn and Boss readily agree. Mek seems tempted, but joins in with King to try to dissuade Bohn.

“If anything, we can go out to drink tomorrow, when you win,” he pats his best friend’s shoulder encouragingly.

“But I’ll be too broken by then to drink,” Bohn reasons, “Today could be an early celebration. It’ll encourage me for tomorrow!”

Normally, Mek would chime in to say the opposite, but everyone’s high spirits can’t be dampened by Bohn’s fate. Even Mek smiles slightly and nods.

Bohn extends his keys out to King. “Want to be designated driver?”

Who wants to be designated driver, really?

“No, I don’t,” he wants to hand the car keys back to his friends, but the way their faces fall, make him feel bad. With a sigh, he pushes them back to Bohn. “But give them to me before we enter the club.” Solemn expressions turn giddy as they walk towards Bohn’s car.

** **** **  


**~~three~~ zero days until someone is gonna die **

**Private Chat between cool boy and** **👑**  
_21:21_

 **👑**  
which one looks better  
9327473.jpg  
9327474.jpg

They’re pictures of King in two different button up shirts. After raiding Bohn’s closet, as the others have, two button downs caught his eye. One is a plain cream color with gold detailing and the other a dark blue silk material. 

The answer comes more quickly than he anticipated.

21:25

**cool boy**  
First one.

 **👑**  
feeling any better?

 **cool boy**  
A little.  
Could be worse.

 **👑**  
are you sure about tomorrow?  
you shouldn’t if you’re sick.

 **cool boy**  
I’ll be okay.  
Don't worry too much about me.  
If anyone, be worried for Bohn.

If it came from anyone else, King probably wouldn’t have thought twice about it. This, however, was Ram’s first direct threat. The words may not say much, but their intention terrifies him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry if this is slow pacing; it's v much my style ;-;
> 
> things will get intense next week uwuwuwu so pls anticipate
> 
> me when i read your comments:  
> 
> 
>   
>  (Lee Jangjun (Jangstar) of Golden Child) sinceramente, gracias muchos por leer mis escritos !!


	8. dazzling scarlet/red color silhouette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> y'all it's what you've been waiting for (more like what's been built up): *fighting chants in the distance* (fight scenes are also another thing I've never written before, so i hope there's enough **te n s i o n** )
> 
> where king really likes plants, bohn is bohn, and ram is really hot when he's angry
> 
> and not to forget, like really, what's up with ram?? (I know the answer to this, but i enjoy reading your theories)
> 
> (I've reread this chapter and in all honesty, it's probably the best one yet uwuwu)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y’all black lives still matter and we gotta reallocate those police funds. 
> 
> I would also like to apologize for the later update because as a verivery (ha puns) big kpop stan, i was dealing with the road to kingdom finale stages andand comeback season like i got stray kids with [god’s menú](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TQTlCHxyuu8), seventeen with [left and right](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HdZdxocqzq4) and then golden child released their mv for [lucid dream](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4zp8jzIgRRY) early and my poor body cannot h a n d l e.
> 
> related to that, the entire go live album is overwhelming but it's very them.

** zero days until someone is gonna die **

King really, really cannot sleep. Babysitting four grown men really should tire a guy out, but nothing. Tucked under the sheets, next to Bohn, all he can do is stare up at the ceiling and let his thoughts interrupt the expected quiet of the night. Although he isn’t alone, King’s not sure if he likes the company.

He wishes he’d taken Ruj’s offer and gone to see Ram, to maybe figure out what was wrong with him. Phu’s reaction paired with Ruj’s impromptu texts corroborated just how serious the situation was. Although the thought of dogs frightens King, he’s happy they comfort the younger.

It’s similar to the relationship between him and his plants. Yes, he has the support of his friends, but King knows that sometimes there’s that grey area, those thoughts that you feel like you can’t tell others yet weigh on you so much that you need some type of outlet for them. Especially after the dog attack when he was younger, plants were a comforting constant.

Everyone thinks it’s weird that King talks to his plants, cares for them so intensely, but if they were the keepers of his most intimate and spontaneous thoughts, how could he not want to ensure they were in their best condition? Healthy green leaves and blooming buds never fail to boost his mood. It was a mutually beneficial relationship. As a result, their wilting had an opposite but equally as strong effect. When he sees stalks droop even in the slightest, it makes him sad, and at the times he was already feeling down, even sadder. 

Maybe it's weird that he could empathize more with plants than humans. Is it weirder if he thinks of Ram as a plant sometimes? It’s not necessarily that he resembles one, although he is constantly quiet and attentive. His presence calms King in a way he can’t explain, but it’s similar to how he feels at home surrounded by his plants. Two-sided conversations are overrated. King doesn’t have to think about how the other will respond, but revels in knowing that he’s always listening. 

Does Ram think of him like a dog? If he was the most comfortable around dogs, sure. There isn’t much that validates an answer of yes, except for the head pats. Sincerely, King knows if anyone else did that, especially his friends, they’d be dead. It felt so demeaning, except with Ram. With him, it was almost endearing. 

So who's really the weird one, King or Ram?

 ~~King was the one who couldn't keep his emotions straight.~~ Seriously, why couldn't Ram just stop the casual flirting and leave their relationship objective and professional? Sure, King does kind of like it, but the circumstances are very inconvenient and complicated so it would be that much easier to avoid it altogether.

(In the back of his mind, he knows this is a peak "oh no, he's hot" situation, but he also pushes it away because acknowledging his attraction to Ram would open doors to a lot of unwarranted chaos.)

In the end, he concludes that like tends to attract like and that ignorance is bliss.

** **** **  


King doesn’t remember falling asleep. He wakes up the next morning with his head in Bohn’s chest to the sound of his alarm ringing. The position would probably be significantly more comfortable if he could turn the alarm off. 

“Duen,” Bohn murmurs as he tightens his arm around King, “Stop moving.” His best friend’s words spur him into a fury of determination and he throws any preexisting consideration for him out the window. After what feels like endless shaking, Bohn finally pries his eyes open and immediately gets as far away from King as possible. Ignoring the other’s senseless panicking, he takes the opportunity to stretch and sit up. Bohn was really stupid sometimes. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t been caught in compromising positions like this before. Hell, he’d been the first man Bohn kissed, but nooo intimacy bad. 

“Morning,” King says, “I hope last night was worth it.”

Bohn blinks at him owlishly and looks under the blanket.

“Dude,” he groans, getting out of the bed, “I was very much sober. Nothing. And I mean nothing, happened.” 

The other breathes a sigh of relief, but he winces in pain soon after. His exhale is too strenuous for Bohn and his expected hangover. 

“Yeah, you did drink a lot,” King starts towards the kitchen, “I’ll get you some painkillers.”

Out in the living room, Mek and Boss are curled up against each other on the couch. Tee looks like he fell asleep in the middle of making a snow angel. King prepares cups of water and the maximum dose of painkillers next to each boy. 

When he reenters the bedroom, Bohn has a bouquet of dried roses in his hand. The blankets cover his head, making him look like a very messed up nun. He throws the pills into his mouth and quickly swallows them with a gulp of water. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks. 

“A lot of things. Why did I agree to this?”

“You love Duen.”

“It was a rhetorical question.” Bohn looks genuinely irritated.

King laughs a little bit. “I know that.”

After deeming everyone conscious enough to not accidentally kill themselves, he takes his leave, to go home and get ready for the day as if he hadn’t been rounding up drunk men all night.

** **** **  


Their group chat is quieter than it should be. King’s so used to the chaos, Boss’s bad flirting, Mek’s teasing, Tee’s random memes, and Bohn’s pining, that the quiet phone is disconcerting. He’s trying to launch all of his attention into his propagated plants. Initially, he was really hesitant, not wanting to hurt his plants, but eventually, he had convinced himself.

He’d talked about the process extensively that rainy evening. For the most part, Ram’s expression didn’t change, but something did seep into his eyes, making his stare much less intense than it once was. He hadn’t texted him any of his thoughts, but King took comfort in his attentiveness. 

It was weird, having someone who didn’t automatically tune him out, or make King feel like he had to censor himself. But it was also a huge relief. 

“You’ve heard this already, a lot,” he tells the ferns in front of him. [The maidenhair’s](https://plantingman.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/Delta-Maidenhair-Fern-Adiantum-Fragrans-Indoor-House-Plants.jpg) soft, silk-like leaves touch his hand every so often, lightly tickling him. “But I don’t know who I’m supposed to be there for. Like, yes Bohn is my best friend and I want him to be happy, but I don’t think it's necessary for either of them to get hurt, but then again it isn’t my affair so I can’t really say anything about the fight.”

He brushes aside [the birds’ nest fern](https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0150/6262/products/the-sill_birds-nest-fern_variant_medium_prospect_blush_1200x.jpg?v=1586542608)’s large fronds to inspect its base. “But it’s really weird. I’ve known Bohn since I was a first-year, so I feel like I should unconditionally support him and want him to win. Is it bad to say that I kind of don’t? That I want whatever’s best, some compromise, between him and Ram?” He sits back a little bit to look back at the plant which of course, being a plant, gives him no answer.

His rambles continue, eventually tearing away from Ram and about more arbitrary things like a nice sweater he saw at the mall and wanting to go backpacking some point in the future. Hours later, he’s stretching his back after having bent over the plants for so long. The most recent notification on his phone appeared a couple of hours ago when Bohn requested everyone where some red because apparently, Duen’s friends are wearing blue and he wants them to look cohesive. More importantly, it’s almost six in the afternoon and he should probably get ready to leave. What does one even wear to a fight? Sure he wants to look nice enough, but the possibility of having blood stains on one of his good shirts deters him from picking anything light. The sweats and tattered tank top he was currently wearing were definite no’s. But does he want to be overdressed? Is that even possible?

This is stupid— what’s so important about what he wears? Attention won’t be on him anyways.

He opts for a black shirt and black pants, topped off with a denim jacket. As King stares at himself in the mirror, absorbing the dark aesthetic, he realizes, in a twisted way, he’s dressed for a funeral.

** **** **  


[A rubber plant](https://img.crocdn.co.uk/images/products2/pl/20/00/02/81/pl2000028176.jpg?width=940&height=940) clasped tightly to his chest, King walks towards the empty tennis court. He’s early; he knows he is. The leaves brush uncomfortably against the underside of his neck, but in a weird way, the sensation keeps him grounded. His fingers lightly rub the leaves, waxy on top and rougher beneath in an attempt to calm himself. The sky is mostly blue, barely tinged with orange at the horizon. Trees, silhouetted black, sway gently in the light breeze. However, the quiet rumbling of the crowd is inherently overwhelming.

Most days, for most events, this probably wouldn’t be the case, but the anticipation was getting to him. Part of him wishes he could have run into Ram on the bus that it would be like old times (if the past two weeks could count as such), before he’d inevitably smash Bohn’s face in. The plant meant good luck for businesses, but he thinks the sentiment could be extended to people. 

It’s mostly empty with some parts of a crowd collecting around the preselected area. The few spectators there stand in a vague circle. He pushes by them, instinctively shielding the leaves of his plant, and immediately apologizes whenever he hears the sounds of indignance as he brushes by. At the front of the sidelines, a young man dressed in a long white coat stands behind a table with the scoreboard. Two containers sit next to each other, marked with the competitor’s names. Although they’re opaque, he doesn’t doubt the one with Ram’s name written on it is fuller.

Bohn is already sitting on a small stool with gloves in his hand that King knows he smuggled from the gym. 

“You look so,” Bohn pauses to find the right word, “Morbid. You’re not even wearing red!”

King waves his shoulder bag in his face and points at the bandana he decided at the very last minute to tie around his thigh. The other scrunches his nose up in slight disdain. “It’s close enough,” he retorts.

His best friend pokes at the plant in his arms and watches it shake for a moment. “What’s with the camo plant?” King really wants to correct him about the mottling of the leaves but, knowing it isn't worth it, stops himself. 

“It’s a sign of good luck.” Bohn sighs both in exasperation and confusion. 

“Did you at least bring the thing?” King rolls his eyes and pulls out the squeeze bottle with the L shaped neck out of his bag.

“This is so stupid,” he mutters as he hands it to him, “I use this to water my plants.”

“Well, now it’ll water me.” King cringes as Bohn unceremoniously pours Gatorade into the bottle.

As he holds back urges to attack Bohn himself, he waits silently for the rest of their friends to appear. They seem to have taken greater heed to Bohn’s instructions, wearing much more red than his considerably more fashionable accents. Boss, ever the eccentric person, is dressed in a bright red tracksuit to Mek’s obvious disdain who has opted for a red shirt. Tee, wrapped in what King can only assume is a red sheet, has the inexplicable instinct to bring some incense and bless Bohn with it. “It’ll purify him so that the higher power will help him win!” 

As he and Boss begin praying over their friend’s body, King turns his head away from the strings of smoke to watch Mek pull out a considerably thick wad of cash and place it in the now almost overflowing container.

“And done!” Tee exclaims, sticking the sticks into the plant’s pot. King immediately pulls them out and thrusts them back in his direction.

“No.” This time the sticks are placed gently on the concrete left to blow in some unfortunate soul’s face.

As the evening progresses, Ram and his friends gradually arrive. TingTing and Tang are first, having gone very all out on the color concept are decked out in obnoxiously blue clothes with equally bright face paint. It’s definitely weird when the rest of the spectators are dressed so casually, but based off what he’s heard about the two freshmen, or at least about TingTing and Tang’s constant compliance to her eccentric wants (anyone with eyes can tell just how whipped he is for her), it’s not out of character. Phu arrives a bit later. He plants a brief kiss on Tee’s cheek and then walks to his friends' side.

“Freshmen these days,” Tee mutters as he amusedly wipes his face with the back of his hand, “Shameless.” King can’t help but agree.

And it’s speak (thought, more accurately) of the devil. For a moment, Ram is like Moses and the crowd the Red Sea, parting it with every step he takes. He looks furious, eyes set into a much darker, negative emotion than King has ever seen. Well used gloves and a helmet hang off one hand and a bottle of water is gripped tightly in the other. He’s wearing nothing more than a pair of boxing shorts and a loose-fitting silken blue robe. King can’t help but notice the hard lines of his stomach and chest. Of course, a nationally ranked boxer is fit.

But wow.

Then their eyes meet. King wants to wipe the anger out of them, but he isn’t sure how to. Ram’s gaze does soften slightly as if he’s trying to reassure him that his displeasure isn’t directed towards him. He knows that, but he’s still scared for Bohn. The junior is still as arrogant as ever, looking down at his stomach and back up at King, raising his eyebrows as if to ask if he liked what he saw. King hopes he doesn't flush too red.

“I really commend what you’re doing here.” (Kind of) Grateful for the unintended interruption, he breaks his attention away from Ram and turns around. Frong stands in front of Bohn with an expression of genuine respect but also some pity. “I bet in your favor.”

His best friend seems to not know how to deal with the situation. He’d so heavily criticized the business senior for trying to take Duen away from him, although Frong was a genuinely decent person. King knew it was all Bohn trying to maintain his pride, but it made him look pretty petulant at times. 

This time, less so than usual. With a somewhat neutral stare (it looks more confused and frustrated) he thanks him. 

“But if you do die," Frong sings as he walks away, "which seems very possible looking at that guy, I’m taking Duen." Bohn immediately shoots up and tries to fight the wrong person. Boss pushes him back down in his seat and tells him to save his energy.

The probably weirdest thing that King’s noticed looking around is that Duen hasn’t shown up. You’d think he’d be there to witness the fight between his best friend and boyfriend. But nobody else seems bothered by his absence so he refrains from asking. 

The medical guy, who has introduced himself as Thara, announces that he’s the referee for the match and luckily enough, a doctor at the nearby hospital. Mek shamelessly asks if he’s willing to give his services for free to which the young doctor replies, all while brightly smiling, that he’ll double the fee if he’s asked again. The engineering senior immediately shrinks away.

Then he announces that the fight will begin in a few moments.

Ram sheds his robe, showing off a lot more ink and skin. Along with the tattoos on his neck and forearm, there are two other larger pieces on his left bicep and side of his chest. King feels like he probably should have known, but he’s still very shocked and impressed by the body being showcased to him. Upon seeing the junior, Bohn asks them whether or not he should do the same. Tee checks under his shirt and promptly says no. “You’ll look so much weaker next to him.” The truth earns him a whack to the side of his head.

** **** **  


In the center of the ring, the two fighters stand next to Thara as he explains the rules. For the most part, Thara seems to not understand how boxing really works. He’s just telling them to be polite like not aiming for the crotch, no biting, and most importantly to not kill each other. Regardless, they nod at the vague regulations.

King hugs the plant closer to his chest, not able to bring himself to cheer with the rest of the crowd. Thara brings his hand down and up quickly, signaling that they can start. They bump gloves and quickly settle into their fighting stances. 

Oh. This is actually happening. Of course, he knows they’d eventually be brawling, but for the most part, he’d mentally been playing it off as a joke for all this time. 

What if it isn’t as bad as he thinks it will be?

Ram immediately throws the first punch, causing Bohn to stumble backward a few steps. Luckily for the senior, he’d instinctively thrown his arms up. As he shuffles away, he never switches off of the defensive. Shuffling soon turns into skipping and running around the field. In any other case, it’d probably be very illegal, but Thara seems to say nothing, visibly amused by the situation.

There’s an antagonizing expression on Bohn’s face as he runs around. Ram on the other hand does not look happy, the cat and mouse game Bohn is trying to play intensifying his preexisting anger. Instead of chasing him, he runs in the opposite direction. 

Bohn’s unable to stop himself in time. With a flare of his nostrils, a vein popping out of his neck, and tensing of his jaw, Ram lands a punch to the senior’s stomach. While the crowd cheers, King holds more tightly onto his plant, worried out of his mind.

His best friend immediately falls to the floor. As he tries to get up, Ram plants a foot to his chest to declare his victory. He futilely punches the shin above him. His forearms are bright red. King knows that bruises will paint his skin in the coming days, and it hurts him. Bohn should just stop and let it end now. 

However, his mental message seems to not have reached him. He twists abruptly under the leg, in an attempt to maybe sweep Ram. But, not having enough momentum, he ends up accidentally tripping the younger. Regardless of whatever technically happened, Ram is knocked prone onto the floor, giving Bohn an opportunity to get back up. The crowd approves. Ram rolls away quickly and stands up, ready in fighting position.

Bohn turns to the offensive again. Ram takes it as an opportunity to do the same. (Almost.) When their fists collide with the other’s face, the junior adds another punch to the gut. King watches as his best friend bends down and clutches his stomach. He tries to shuffle away from the younger, a gloved hand being the only thing distancing each other. The junior does not let up. He follows Bohn quietly and meticulously. 

After what feels like forever, Ram links their arms together to hold the other in place and lands a hard left jab to the face. Bohn, although somewhat dazed from the hit, leans forward against Ram and wraps his free arm around his body. The younger looks a bit confused. It’s probably why he doesn’t expect Bohn to start running forward. He jumps and Ram fails to maintain his balance. Gravity does the rest of the work. 

King immediately cringes at the impact. There’s no sound, but he knows how heavy Bohn is, and with that much momentum, Ram has to be in a lot of pain. 

The senior takes advantage of the situation, raining down a series of punches onto Ram’s face. Ram doesn’t bother to protect his face and aims for his waist. If it were anyone else, King knows they’d end up squirming off of him, but it’s Bohn, the man who doesn’t get ticklish anywhere. However, pain must be pretty effective, if his gradually more messy punches are anything to go by. 

Ram does eventually roll, taking Bohn’s body with him, and gets up. Finally collecting how this won’t be his typical boxing match, he waits for Bohn to get up and immediately kicks him in the side.

“He definitely knows more than how to just box,” Frong admires, “I think that’s Muay Thai.” As impressive as it sounds, King can’t really applaud Ram’s versatility right now. 

The fight ebbs and flows like this for a while. He could keep track of the time but he’s too invested. Don’t get him wrong, he absolutely despises seeing his best friend and his favorite junior beating each other up, but genuine concern prevents him from looking away. He’s not fixated on who’s winning or losing, but the injuries and states of his two friends. Bohn aggressively spits blood onto the floor for the third time. Ram keeps wiping at the exact same cut on his forehead. Every time he does, red smudges more and more of his face and arm. King wishes he could clean and dress it properly.

Why couldn’t they just **STOP**?

Then they do. However, it isn’t just the fighters. Thara, all of his friends, Ram’s friends, and the crowd stare at him with a mix of confusion, anger, and surprise. 

“Why?” someone asks.

“Why what?” King replies, wanting to shrink away from the attention.

“You kind of yelled stop,” Mek quietly explains. 

King internally falls into hysterics. Of course, out of all times, he had to talk to himself now. Can you really yell something like that and not forget? He’s not very sure but extremely doubtful. As he scans the crowd, even Ram is staring attentively at him. At that moment, King swears some humanity replaces the ferocity in his eyes like he’s considering stopping. Gratitude settles within him. If one side lays off, then the other should be able to learn and-

And the moment is gone. Bohn takes the opportunity to land a strong right jab to Ram’s cheek. He pulls him in by the back of the neck and leans into his ear to probably say something. Seconds later, the junior roughly shoves him away.

“Holy shit,” Tee whispers, “Bohn might have a chance.”

With the tense atmosphere, the crowd has gone silent, not knowing how they should react. Bohn, to his credit, looks very smug. King’s not sure if anyone else can see it, but something snaps in Ram.

King brings the plant up to restrict some of his view but so he can still see past the leaves. “I don’t think so,” he barely lets out. 

Ram tears his helmet and gloves off, cracking his neck and hands in the meantime. 

“Oh no,” Boss says, “that does not look good.”

Bohn, more hesitantly, does the same. “So you want a real fight?” Ram growls. It sounds nothing like the soft voice he’s accustomed to hearing. He doesn’t know how to feel, his stomach fluttering with anticipation, but fear also rising in his body. Thara immediately intervenes, trying to deescalate the situation. Ram just pushes him aside and goes for Bohn. 

There’s no crack, but with the way Bohn’s hand cradles his jaw, he knows something’s broken or dislocated. Cruelly but predictably, the crowd erupts into more shouts. King spares a look at Ram’s friends. Concern is etched onto their faces as they talk amongst themselves.

And then, miraculously, another person yells at them to stop.

It’s Duen. The newcomer looks around, seeing the discarded equipment on the floor and then stills on Ram. He charges him and Ram barely avoids impact. 

While Ram is distracted, Bohn moves towards Thara who has already put his gloves on.

“What the fuck is this?” he screams slapping his chest, “What the fuck did you do to him?”

Ram wipes the blood away from his brow. “Protecting you.”

“This,” he gestures widely at the scene around them, “This isn’t protecting me.”

“But he’s hurt you so much,” Ram replies, “You don’t deserve it.”

“That doesn’t mean he deserves this!”

Ram is pleading at this point. “If I can stop him from hurting you, why wouldn’t I?”

“Where were you?” Mek asks, interrupting their volley.

Duen looks down at his wrists and back at his friends. They can't even meet his gaze. 

“They thought it was really smart to tie me to a tree in the park, where obviously,” he emphasizes, “Someone would eventually come across me and cut me free. There were stupid cops that were trying to ensure my safety which was nice and all, but that doesn’t matter.”

“But we never told you where it was,” Phu questions.

“I told him,” Thara admits, “I couldn’t lie to my cousin. And he blackmailed me.”

The content look on the junior's face makes King think that he and Bohn are much more similar than he thought. Ram stands in front of him still taken aback at his best friend’s disapproval. They stare at each other, forming a tense and emotionally charged atmosphere in the few feet between them. That is until Duen finally bursts into tears.

“Are you even sorry?” he asks, voice cracking.

Without hesitation, Ram states, “No.”

Duen sighs, disbelief clear, and walks away, to act as some kind of crutch for Bohn. Mek, Boss, and Tee move towards them, just to be quickly accompanied by TingTing, Tang, and Phu. Ram stands still in the sea of movement, eyes never leaving Duen. King is torn, not knowing where to go. The choice is soon made for him; Ram eventually walks away from the group, shoulders slouched, physically defeated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i present to you; a gateway for more angst™ 
> 
> oooo and what did Bohn do to make Ram snap like that hmmmmmmm?
> 
> i am a basic hoe who loves this meme format but it's always applicable uwuwuwu. thank you for sticking with me and reading my content!!!  
> 
> 
>   
>  (Vernon (Choi Hansol) of Seventeen)
> 
> (this was actually me whenever i got a notification of a comment; i am softest hooman)  
>  be safe out there!!


	9. hysteria, such a beautiful destroyer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> where king desperately needs resources on how to deal with being exposed, the gay panic, and finding a stray bus rider: featuring some answered questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi everyone, again, sorry for not sticking well to my schedule.
> 
> but i hope i can make it up to yall uwuwu
> 
> A L S O thank y'all for over 2000 hits and over 125 kudoses (kudosi bro idk) like damn that's hella crazy. are these achievements very specific? yes, yes they are. but they still mean much to me.

King doesn't know why he bothered even joining everyone at the restaurant. He isn’t hungry and he really isn’t in the mood to drink his feelings away. Ram hasn't replied to his texts lately and King knows something's been off since the fight, but he didn't realize it would affect their dynamic. So in the off chance he does reply to his messages, King very much wants to be sober.

Bohn reassures him that if he ditches, it would be awkward. To his credit, he was right about the effect of absence, but it wasn’t King who failed to make an appearance.

“Ram dislocated his jaw,” Duen repeats, somewhat angrily, for the fifth time, “And Bohn’s lucky he didn’t bite his tongue off.” The senior flips a thumbs up. According to Thara, he just had to make sure to not overextend his jaw and risk popping it back out. As a precautionary measure, Bohn said he wouldn’t talk. 

“Is Ram coming?” King asks TingTing next to him. She looks taken aback by the question, and King knows it seems random, but he can’t bring himself to care.

She shakes her head. “We texted him, but he hasn’t been replying.” He knows that; he’d been hoping to hear something more. 

“Please, drink up,” Duen tips the cups into Mek and Tee’s mouths, “It’s my treat.” It really wasn’t. According to Bohn, the junior was so angry that he’d forced all of his friends to pay for a night out. 

“He’s drunk after a beer,” King mutters to himself. Duen is lightly poking Bohn’s cheek while the other wraps an arm around him comfortingly.

“He's only tipsy,” she explains, "But he'll get there soon. Lightweight." He didn't know there were people worse than him at drinking.

“Says you,” Tang teases from her other side. She immediately slams him playfully and then downs a shot, sticking her tongue out mockingly.

King watches his best friend look at Duen with pure adoration.

“Does Duen like him a lot?” It’s a really late question to ask, considering everything that’s happened but King wants to be reassured.

Phu laughs somewhere further to his right. “Like I’ve known both of them for at least what? Three years? I’ve never seen Duen get that angry, especially at Ram. If he’s willing to fight Ram over him, then yeah.” He takes a sip of his beer. “Duen’s usually a mild-mannered guy.” 

“But Ram did kinda overdo it,” Tee admits. 

“Eh,” Tang disagrees, “Bohn said some shit to him, and depending on what it was, it could’ve totally set him off.”

TingTing hits his chest excitedly. “Probably something about his family.” He nods in acknowledgment while Phu claps approvingly.

“Maybe. But how would he even know anything about them?”

“Duen?”

“I doubt it. He respects Ram’s privacy too much.”

King watches the first years talk amongst each other, but eventually, his curiosity gets the best of him. “Why his family?” The three of them stare at him, open-mouthed, gazes flickering around each other.

Raucous laughter spurts in front of him. It’s Duen. An unpleasant shiver shoots down King’s spine. He’s never seen the younger with such a sinister glint in his eyes. It’s similar to the smugness but more menacing. “It’s why he got kicked off the national team.

“Although Ram was undoubtedly one of the best, someone said he couldn’t be the national representative because he wasn’t completely Thai. The same kid didn’t stop and started badmouthing his mom, saying how his six-year-old sister’s Thai was better than hers. Ram, being the morally sound person he was, decided to report him. It happened in front of the whole team, however, nobody corroborated the incident. And the words didn’t stop.

“So, after a week with no changes, he beat everyone on the team, King of the Hill style. He messed everyone up pretty badly; a lot of blood on bright blue mats. The coach really wanted to keep him on the team but the team’s owner, whose son had been caught in the crossfire of Ram’s rampage, had him removed.”

Duen immediately downs a shot when he’s done. “God I hate that story. Racist fucks. He deserves so much more than that.”

“What the hell,” Tang mutters.

“Why would you just say that?” TingTing yells, “Ram hates having it told.”

He scoffs, “Well I hate having my boyfriend’s jaw dislocated, but I guess we all don’t get what we want, now do we?” His head returns to its place on Bohn’s shoulder. 

King feels very concerned. “Is he normally like this when he’s drunk?” This drunk Duen is very different from the one he’d heard about. Everyone, even his friends, shakes their heads vigorously.

“He’s a happy drunk,” Phu states, “A bit loopy but never angry.”

“Stop talking about me like I’m not in front of you,” Duen demands, “And I,” he slams the table, “I have every right to be mad at him. He isn’t sorry? Why wouldn’t he be sorry?”

Although he continues his rant, King doesn’t bother listening. Instead, he asks Bohn the question he’d been dying to ask him ever since the fight ended. Normally, he’d do it in private, but peer pressure works wonders, especially when mixed with alcohol.

“So what did you say to Ram?”

Duen’s words quiet down. As far as King knows, it's an uncovered mystery. All eyes are on Bohn.

“Wait what do you mean you,” he pokes Bohn’s chest, “said something to Ram. I thought he just punched him completely unprovoked.”

Tang sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Did you not just hear what we were talking about?”

“I heard fight and family and put the pieces together, okay?” Duen replies defensively.

Meanwhile, Bohn laughs nervously, signaling that whatever he’s about to say is a blatant lie. He just crosses his arms in front of his face and then presses his fingers into his cheeks. It’s kind of cute, but not a good enough distraction.

“Text it to us,” Boss insists.

 **gofundme.com/teach-bohn-proper-communication-skills (5)**  
_23:09  
_

**not dead**  
Is this really how a national fighter hits  
Because its fucking weak.

King reads it aloud, but doesn’t believe a single word he says. Even Duen speaks up.

“He doesn’t care what people think of him,” he says confusedly.

“I’m telling you,” TingTing asserts, “It has to be his family.”

“I’ve never told you anything about Ram until today,” Duen mulls. He pauses for a moment. “He does love boxing a lot. He knows the sport like the back of his hand. So he knew,” he huffs, “He knew what he was doing when he took his gloves off.”

“But I don’t think he planned on it,” Phu dismisses, “Going bare-knuckled. His hands weren’t wrapped enough for it.”

Duen looks like he’s been thrown into an exasperated flurry. “What the hell did you say to him?”

Bohn scans the table, locking eyes with King for a moment. There’s a mix of an apology and a plea for help. He begins typing on his phone. However, no text appears in the group chat.

“Worry about your own relationship,” Duen reads.

The table falls silent. All of the first years are visibly baffled. 

“Is,” TingTing starts, “Is Ram seeing someone?”

Duen shakes his head. “Not that I know about.”

"What if he was talking about platonic relationships like between him and Duen?" Phu proposes. The underclassmen hum at the possibility.

Tee immediately chuckles. "I don't think Bohn thought that far."

Amidst the confused atmosphere, Mek has already texted the group chat.

_ 23:12  
_

**boss’s husband**  
You stupid, stupid man

 **tee-short**  
i dont get it

 **mek’s wife**  
same

 **plant bottom**  
^^^

 **boss’s husband**  
What do you mean you don’t get it

 **not dead**  
i was just  
playing with him like 

**boss’s husband**  
King  
_@plant bottom_

 **not dead**  
when i was running around and shit

 **plant bottom**  
?

 **not dead**  
I didn’t mean to actually trigger him  
wait

 **boss’s husband**  
He was talking about you

 **not dead**  
fuck

That doesn’t make sense. Wait, no that really doesn’t make sense. Ram wouldn’t react that viscerally-

“King?” Duen exclaims. His head shoots up to see the younger looking over his best friend’s shoulder. And, unfortunately, everyone is staring at him.

“Wait, no,” he verbalizes, “I just tutored him.”

Realization appears on Duen’s face. “You had that thing for Ram, right? Because he was on your bus?”

King can feel his face immediately redden. “Yeah, but that was just saying he was attractive.” 

“He isn’t wrong,” Mek adds. Boss immediately stares angrily at the other senior. It earns him a light pat on the head.

“There really isn’t anything going on between us,” he insists. 

Gratefully, Tee butts in. “If there was anything, we’d probably know by now.” Mek nods.

“Yeah, he hasn’t been pining over him in weeks,” Duen reads from his phone. Bohn reassuringly smiles.

For the rest of the night, all of the first years seem convinced. It isn’t until much later, when Phu and Tee have gone off somewhere, Tang excuses himself and a very drunk TingTing to go home, Duen wanders off to the restroom, and Boss falls asleep, that he learns that his friends’ words were empty.

“I can’t believe Boss was right,” Mek asserts. Bohn shares an expression that matches the other’s incredulous tone.

King immediately bursts out laughing. “You think,” he chuckles, “Him? And me?” His friends stare at him, unimpressed. “Dude you’re hilarious.” He gets up, collecting his things. “He’s just one of the first years I’m supposed to take care of and that I just so happened to also tutor. Nothing more.”

“He’s one of Tee’s kids.”

“I traded him with Phu,” he replies easily but there’s a definite tinge of hysteria in there. What the hell is happening?

“Phu’s my kid.” Oh fuck.

“I meant another Phu,” he easily covers while placing his share of money on the table, “It’s a common name.”

Mek looks at him a bit amusedly. “We don’t have to pay.” He points at the signed receipt left on the table.

“Right right right,” King repeats. He unceremoniously stuffs the bills back into his chest bag and then pauses momentarily, staring at his friends. When they don’t say anything, he shoots a pair of finger guns at them and immediately dips.

** **** **  


The night is cooler than usual, clouds slightly covering the bright moon. A cool breeze blows gently across his face. King doesn’t bother rushing back to his apartment. Could he have very much gotten a ride from Bohn? Sure, but he thinks he wouldn’t be able to sit in close quarters with his friends for very long. It’s pleasant and calm outside; so why the hell couldn’t his brain be the same.

Ram, liking him? That’s actually absurd. 

But it did make sense if he reacted so strongly. Or what if, what if Ram was really seeing someone (it makes sense; he doesn’t have any obligation to tell him anything) and it just so happens it’s one of the guys that Bohn had seen. Surprisingly unbeknownst to King and the rest of their friend group.

Not to toot his own horn, but sure King thinks he’s a decent person. Nice, and open, and welcoming. Blame him for being an ENFP. 

And even if it’s true, it gives him a reason to validate his emotions. But really, is that the right thing to do? Sure, the fight’s been done and over with, but it doesn’t seem like the tension between Ram and Bohn has died down at all.

He knows he’s being really stupid, not doing anything about how he feels, but they definitely aren’t in a “relationship” so it really doesn’t make sense that being told to pay attention to his relationships would set him off so much.

King lets his arms swing around arbitrarily as he lets the thoughts cycle through his mind. Moments later, he wonders if his thoughts are really that powerful because Ram appears before him. Not actively; he stumbles upon the first year, in a very uncomfortable position, asleep, at a bus station that is much farther from his usual one.

And, not wanting to make the same mistake for the third time, he impulsively crosses the empty street. The now customary worry is immediately replaced with relief. High on the newfound ease, he rushes towards the still figure yelling, “Cool Boy,” not caring about who hears him.

It’s when he’s a few steps away that King’s arms prickle with goosebumps and he sees the three large beasts at the younger’s feet. Three masses of fur who are staring at him with beady eyes.

His breath hitches. King has to will himself not to run away. He focuses on the familiar green of Ram’s sweatshirt and shakes his shoulder. A groan quietly escapes his lips, but his eyes stay shut.

Then one barks. And the other two quickly join him. King can’t help but stick himself to the wall of foliage behind the stop. He crouches down, curls his legs to his chest, and tries to muffle the noise with his palms. 

Why did he let himself do this?

Staring at the dogs terrifies him, especially as they’re trying to approach him, but if he closes his eyes he’ll be completely vulnerable. He keeps telling himself they aren’t violent, pattering over as closely as they can to him, as much as their leashes will let them, but King doesn’t really appreciate the gap shrinking between them. 

The younger sits up immediately at the sound of his dogs. King lets his gaze flick towards the sudden movement. He watches him throw on his glasses and looks around worriedly.

“Cool Boy,” he begs. Ram turns to look at him. King can’t read the emotions on his face in the shadows, but he seems to understand what’s happening. With a quick whistle, the dogs return to him. They stare at him adoringly. After an extended palm and a finger pointing down, they quickly sit down. He digs through the backpack he’d been using as a makeshift pillow and takes a handful of crackers, which the dogs eat up immediately. 

King can’t bring himself to stand back up. For some reason, the floor feels much more comfortable. His thumb and forefinger instinctively rub a leaf, and he tries to focus on the waxiness brushing his skin. He quietly watches Ram approach him and barely musters out a small wave. King's gaze doesn’t leave him as he tries to forget about the dogs. The younger sits down in front of him, effectively blocking his view of the dogs and stares at him quietly.

“Are you okay?” he murmurs. King watches his eyes dart around every part of him. His hands rest gently on his biceps. “You’re shaking.” 

The senior laughs awkwardly, wiping a stray tear away. “Hey look you’re saying words to me.” Ram is not amused. “But, yeah. I could be worse.”

Ram reaches up to presumably pat his head or maybe brush his hair out of his face, or wipe away another tear, but whatever it is, he doesn’t complete the action. King wants to know what he's thinking, why he's straying away from their essentially prescribed interactions. It’s almost wrong.

“Why are you out here? And not at home?” The junior looks away and stares at his shoes. Without the eye contact, he can’t even begin to understand, but his refusal to explain speaks volumes; he decides to not press him farther.

“Are you going to look at me?” he jokes instead, but it really is bothering him. King places his hands comfortably on the other’s knees. Ram tenses to his surprise and shakes his head. What’s wrong with him? 

King stares up at the sky to see that the clouds have crowded more densely. His phone confirms his suspicions; it’s going to rain tonight. So, he tells Ram. However, he still doesn’t waver.

“You’re going to get sick,” he starts, “The bus stop won’t cover you.” There’s no reaction. And then just barely, over Ram’s shoulder, King spots movement and remembers the dogs. As much as he doesn’t want to, he does. He turns to stare at the black hair in front of him. The dogs.

“Your dogs will get sick.” The hands on his arms tighten slightly. “You really need to find somewhere more secure.”

“Do you really have nowhere else to go?” he asks. Ram finally looks up at him, eyes a little bit glassy, and shakes his head. 

King’s heart sinks a little bit. He wants to reach out a little bit more and hold Ram in his arms. He wants to know what’s wrong and why he’s out on the street at one in the morning. Is what he’s about to say really impulsive and he’s likely to regret it? Maybe.

“How about,” he begins. He lets his hands rest on his shoulders.

He really shouldn't. But he can’t stand seeing Ram like this.

“You come stay at my place.” The younger seems to not have totally processed his words. “And,” he takes a deep inhale, “You can bring the dogs. I have a spare room that they could stay in. It’s really not a problem. I promise until you figure things out, you’ll have a place with me.”

His words force Ram's gaze back up, but there's something else behind his eyes, searching or skepticism. King musters the most comforting smile he can. “I’m serious.”

The younger immediately turns away, but in the light of the streetlamp, he can see the tear trickle down his cheek. King is speechless; he reaches a hand out to turn the younger back to face him, before wrapping his arms around him completely in a secure hug. When he feels the moisture against his neck, tears can’t help but form in the corners of his eyes. Curse him and his excessive sympathy. He just rubs the younger’s back comfortingly and tries to share his hurt. His heart aches at the feeling of his body shaking with silent sobs.

“Thank you,” the younger says a quiet whisper.

"Of course."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, knowing i concluded it when they were hugging  
> also me; but there's m o re 
> 
> we might get another part in the middle of the week y'all uwuwu because i wanna go d e e p e and i didn't like how smol this chapter was ;-;  
> also i will share some pics of my plants e v en tu all y
> 
> (drop some mbtis if you know em; i think they're p cool)
> 
> until the next tiempo:  
> 
> 
>   
>  (Woodz (Cho Seungyoun) formerly of X1) 


	10. jump in and take my hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the beginnings (i.e. the first week) of ram and king living together in the same space, where king has much anxiety, and ram reveals himself as peak boyfriend material

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone, i hope you're doing well, and pray be aware that covid is big bad in the us. 
> 
> if you are also in the us, hi, yes, i suffer with you.
> 
> me: miD wEeK  
> also me: aha Saturday for once (the predicted schedule) 
> 
> b u t hey at least i'm consistent in my inconsistencies y o t e

Ram is still a bit standoffish as they walk back to the apartment. There’s a heaviness on top of his regular expression that just doesn’t settle well with him. King’s arm grips tightly onto the younger’s bicep, but he can’t look at him. It would mean looking at the dogs and with his reaction; there was no way **that** was happening. 

King wants to start some conversation, but how do you do that after you’ve broken down in tears? So he just rambles.

He and his group of friends were supposed to go out and hang out on a beach for the week, but Bohn cancelled at the last minute after things between him and Duen were resolved. It was a chain reaction, where Boss invited Mek on a “best friend hang out” and Tee asked Phu if he was doing anything over the break. 

“I’ve been exiled by couples,” he says, extending his legs out like a toy soldier. He spares a glance at Ram whose expression has shifted into amusement. “It’s not that funny.” he retorts.

“Me too,” Ram states. Although he’s slightly shocked by Ram speaking (he doesn’t know how many times he has to do it before he gets used to it), King then puts the pieces together. 

“Ah,” he sighs, “The magic of having friend groups date together.”

Ram speaks again, albeit more quietly. All he could parse out is “We... third.”

“What?”

The younger just shakes his head and nods his head at the crossroads they’re at. King points left. 

With the building in sight, the rain has started sputtering a little bit from the sky. In a matter of seconds, the drops become heavier, almost like bullets. King can’t help but cringe at the moisture, and the dogs’ yelps of discomfort. 

When he reaches his apartment, he can’t help but sigh in relief. Ram groans behind him. Upon turning around, he sees him cradling his face and staring betrayed at the hanging plant above him. The relief disappears, immediately replaced with anxiety. He faces away from the dogs, fixating on the curtain. 

“A-around,” he stutters, “The corner there’s a door on your right and it’s empty, just some mats and stuff. You can keep the dogs there.”

He sits down on the couch, shuffling loud behind him. There’s a bark and he can’t help but curl his fingers into a tight fist. His fingernails dig into his palms. A hand rests gently on his head. Ram stares down at him, concerned but also somewhat guilty. 

King stands up and puts on a smile. “Take the bedroom,” he insists. He pulls the door open and drags Ram into it. The younger balks at the proposal and pushes himself back out. “We’ll just switch,” he reasons, “And you,” ungraciously shoving Ram back into the bedroom, “Are first.” 

Ram seems unsettled. 

“Hey, if you’ll miss me so much,” King jokes, “I’ll be right here.” The younger just shuts the door on him.

Things are smooth sailing from there. They get ready for bed; King tries to get as comfortable as possible on his couch. In the back of his mind, he knows the dogs aren’t going to come bounding out of the room because they’ve magically figured out how to use doorknobs and maul him. Nonono of course not. But he can’t help but feel uneasy. 

The most that happen is barking. And while yes, he’s slightly concerned for his neighbors, he’s probably more worried about his well being. The rain drums outside, so hard that he can kind of sleep, the pattering drowning out the dogs. But his sleep isn’t the most peaceful. About an hour later, he stirs back into consciousness. So he just sticks his AirPods into his ears and plays some calming music. 

For the first time in a while, he sees the dog running at him, and him standing, defenseless. Tonight was different, with there being three, and all looking deceptively like Ram’s dogs. The nightmares were much more intrusive in the first few years following the attack, becoming more sporadic with time. The last time it’d happened was last month, when the campus dog came at him. 

Luckily, he gets more than three hours of sleep.

** **** **  


Eventually, that first day, King wakes up to a pleasant smell wafting into his nose. His normally white curtains glow a dull grey and he can hear the quiet pattering of rain showers. His back aches as he sits up; this couch was definitely not meant for sleeping. He’d made the choice, but his body very much seems to regret it.

His phone blindingly reads 07:08. He’s very much irritated— it’s their week of break and he shouldn’t be waking up before ten. There’s only a text from Ram telling him he’d gone to the gym for a run.

After adjusting to his surroundings, he registers a figure moving in the unexpectedly illuminated kitchen. His phone buzzes next to him. It’s a picture of him, his body hunched over, eyes squinted looking disoriented, bedhead rampant, and mouth open mid-yawn. Simply, he looks like a mess. Below there’s a small line of text.

 **Private Chat between cool boy and** **👑**  
_07:10_

 **cool boy**  
Want food?

He stares in what he assumes is Ram’s direction, unimpressed. “You’re not going back to sleep, right?” he croaks. Deeming the younger’s head movements as dissenting, he just traipses to his room and collapses in the bed.

When he wakes up again a couple of hours later, it’s again, not of his own accord, and this time much more abruptly. His phone rings annoyingly next to his head. 

He doesn’t even check who it is before bringing the device to his ear and muttering a very much annoyed what.

“Do you happen to know where Ram is?” King sits up so quickly, his head pounds from minor whiplash.

“What do you mean?” he asks while getting out of bed. When he walks out to the living room, Ram sits relaxed in the corner of his couch, immersed in a game on his phone. 

Bohn inhales deeply. “Duen’s really worried because apparently, he didn’t come back home after walking his dogs?” King takes a seat next to Ram, drawing his attention. He puts the phone on speaker. 

“And where’d Duen hear that from?”

“Umm, his brother, I think? Does it matter? Do you know where he is?” King stares pointedly at Ram who seems slightly panicked. His hands cross in a clear X in front of his face.

“No,” he finds himself saying, “He hasn’t texted me for days. But can you tell me if you get any updates?”

“Duen’s already planned out a bunch of places to stop at. In this weather. The things I do for him.”

King chuckles. “I’ll be going out later,” he lies, “I’ll tell you if I see anything.”

“Thanks,” Bohn concludes. After the call has ended, King, of course, has many questions. However, the receiver of them is preoccupied, fingers moving swiftly over his phone screen.

“Did you forget to tell anyone you were safe?” Ram nods, a small but slightly guilty smile growing on his face. “Are you going to tell me what this is all about?”

_ 10:34 _

**cool boy**  
Later  
Go eat first.

He walks towards the kitchen and instinctively heads towards the fridge. Why are there so many things in it? Ram takes his arm and pulls him towards the dining table where he sees one of his never used food coverings on the table. Beneath it, he finds some sliced fruit and fried rice, a definite step up from his bread and leaf water.

“So that’s what that was,” he mutters. The younger sits in front of him, observing his every reaction. 

“You did good,” he comments between bites. Gratefully, the food is delicious, and whatever King is doing makes the other smile brightly. Ram returns his attention to his phone. However, he easily breaks what he’d thought to be pretty intense concentration, to collect the plate.

King immediately rushes towards the junior, who effectively blocks him from the sink. His legs are planted to the ground as he circles the soapy sponge over the plate. His reaching movements are pretty useless.

“Did you do my other dishes too?” He points at the empty sink which he distinctly recalls housing a small stack of dinnerware. Ram doesn’t answer and just cleans the plate, rinsing, and places it on the drying rack where said plates were already drying. “Wait, Cool Boy, you don’t have to do this.” He reaches out to stop the man from passing by him. The junior just dries his palms on his pants, pats his head, and walks back to the couch.

** **** **  


They don’t invade each other’s spaces, but there’s a definite presence. King waters his plants. Ram feeds his dogs. They both chill out on opposite sides of the couch, King reading books and browsing twitter while Ram engrossed in his game. King can’t help but shove a meme into his face every so often, constantly breaking the other’s steely expression.

Eventually, the day dwindles into the night.

 **Private Chat between cool boy and** **👑**  
_20:03_

 **cool boy**  
What do you usually do for dinner?

“Rice and takeout leftovers. Instant noodles if I’m lazy.”

Ram stares at him, disbelief clear on his face. King giggles a little and squirms away when the younger’s hand pats his stomach. He takes the elder with him into the kitchen and forces him to sit at the kitchen counter.

“What was that for?” he whines, very much betrayed.

 **cool boy**  
I can’t believe you’re this fit.

King smiles at the compliment. Ram confidently takes out the new additions to his fridge and starts to prepare them. His face is similar to when he’s doing math, coated with genuine but also serene concentration. There’s that air of security in his movements. It seems almost instinctual as he dices the ingredients, oils the pan, and after a while throws in the vegetables. 

“You don’t have to do this,” he says a little loudly over the popping of the frying pan, “Same with the dishes. It’s no trouble that you’re here.” The younger says nothing and continues adding the cubes of chicken breast. Wanting a response, King hops off the stool and stands next to him. “Cool Boy, I don’t mind just buying food.”

Over the crackling, he hears the younger sigh a little and covers the pan. Ram takes two small bowls out of the cabinet and packs them with rice. He places them in King’s hands and guides him back onto the stool. And there it is, that signature, expressionless stare.

_ 20:23 _

**cool boy**  
I don’t mind.  
You have to eat healthier.

“Okay but I don’t _really_ eat that badly.”

 **cool boy**  
The Nile.  
Plus, I like cooking.

After sending the text, he makes a show of dramatically leaving his phone in front of King, and returning to the stove. Why was he like this sometimes? He stares into the younger’s back, pensive about what to say next. “Wait at least let me pay for groceries?” Ram places a plate of very tasty looking stir fry in front of him and gestures for him to eat.

King shouldn’t be as surprised as he is, but yes, the food is amazing, and he doesn’t fail to express it. “This is amazing,” he exclaims. His hand covers his very full mouth, and he can’t help but scoop more of it into his bowl. Ram’s expression doesn’t shift much, but the way the corners of his lips lift is enough. 

He easily finishes his bowl. Ram quickly clears the plate of the last few pieces and takes all the dishes.

“No,” King immediately begins, “No wait stop.” And he takes the plates from him. “I can do this.” 

He suds all of the plates first. However, before he’s even halfway done, an unwanted hand begins to rinse them.

King can’t not stare offendedly at Ram. “I can do this by myself.” Ram stares at him expectantly and points to the sponge in his hand; he’d finished with what’d already been soaped up. Realizing there was no real way for him to win, King relents and lets the younger do as he wants.

The evenings, after they’ve showered and gotten ready for bed, are decidedly for themselves. Whoever has the bedroom escapes into it and does as they want. That night, an exhausted King collapses onto the bed and falls asleep immediately.

** **** **  


He wakes up, much more refreshed than the day before. Pictures are being sent in the group chat, all of them bonding over their couple vacations. And a few texts from Ram.

 **Private Chat between cool boy and** **👑**  
_06:12_

 **cool boy**  
Went for a run

_ 09:45 _

**cool boy**  
Were my dogs barking a lot last night?

Lip wrought between his teeth, King isn’t sure what to tell him.

_ 10:17 _

**👑**  
A little bit?  
It wasn’t terrible.

 **cool boy**  
I told Ruj to come get them.

He has to read the text twice.

 **👑**  
nonono that’s unnecessary  
It wasn’t that bad.

 **cool boy**  
Meaning it was still some level of bad.  
I remember how you reacted to their barks, King.  
It’s okay.

King moves into the living room, but it’s empty, save for another bowl of food, this time scrambled eggs, grilled tomatoes, and slices of spam. He knocks on the door next to him. There’s no response. He forces it open and braces his arms in front of him, eyes screwed shut. But there’s nothing that comes. When he inspects the room more the only thing he notices is claw marks embedded into the sleeping mats.

He takes the food and plops down onto the couch.

_ 10:19 _

**👑**  
cool boy  
waittt  
it’s fineeee

Then his phone vibrates.

 **Private Chat between Ruj Vera and King Thanthep**  
_10:21_

 **Ruj Vera**  
HES WITH YOU

 **King Thanthep**  
Ram?  
Idk where he is.

 **Ruj Vera**  
Cut the shit  
He told me

 **King Thanthep**  
Oh lol  
Umm yea?  
I guess don’t tell anyone?

 **Ruj Vera**  
Aha I know I was threatened much  
It’s not every day you find your brother sneaking into his house  
He was so lucky  
Our parents were both out

 **King Thanthep**  
That’s good  
Did he tell you why he wouldn’t go home?

 **Ruj Vera**  
No  
Do you know  
Did you lie to me  
I thought we were friends  
F r I e n d s

 **King Thanthep**  
Ah i don't  
I was hoping you knew

 **Ruj Vera**  
He’s my brother  
I should know EVERYTHING about him  
I hate how secretive he is

 **King Thanthep**  
I told him he didn’t have to take the dog’s back  
He could keep em with him.

 **Ruj Vera**  
He said they were getting anxious.

He doesn't mean to sound conceited, but the part of him that thought the gesture was done purely for his well being deflates a little, but it shouldn’t be so shocking. The first thing he’d heard about Ram was about his outright love for dogs. While he’s pondering a bit, the front door opens and Ram walks through, immediately bumping into the hanging plant again. He wiggles his palms, in a very jazz handy fashion, but King can tell he’s just trying to emphasize he’s returned empty-handed.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he tells him, “They could’ve stayed.”

Ram silently sits next to him.

_ 10:29 _

**cool boy**  
The Nile.  
They’ll be okay with Ruj.  
And it’s your apartment.  
I can’t make you feel unsafe in a safe space.

King flushes at the sentiment. “Thank you,” he admits, “I know they mean a lot to you, and I didn’t want to take that away from you, especially with whatever you’re going through right now.”

Ram’s arm wraps around him and his palm rests predictably on his head. They bask in the moment, King slowly eating his food, and Ram just carding his fingers gently through the other’s hair as he scrolls through his phone. 

“You said Ruj was going to come over, but you ended up trying to sneak into your house?” King laughs, interrupting the silence, "as in you couldn't do it?" Satisfyingly, Ram stares at him, very much shocked. Within moments, he takes the now empty bowl and runs to the kitchen, forcing King to follow him and (unsuccessfully) attempt to dissuade him.

** **** **  


Their lifestyles overlap more quickly than he could anticipate. (He blames the rain and lack of barking).

Ram plays the same game, some first-person shooter, and seems to be quite good at it. With his shipment of new seeds delayed, he asks the younger to teach him. And he becomes so engrossed with it, they stay up until two almost every night playing it, causing them to habitually nap in the afternoons.

Whenever he was watering his plants, he’d get occasional texts, asking him what kind of plants he had, how much water they needed, their names, etc. His apartment is essentially a greenhouse, covered with a plant in every nook and cranny. He laughs every time Ram walks in and is met with the hanging string of nickels. Sure, it may have been a slight design flaw on his part to let them grow in his foyer, but he likes the aesthetic and is too lazy to do anything about it.

It probably takes him days to list off every plant, and by the end of the week, whenever he wakes up, he finds the younger, not sitting on the couch, but beginning to water the plants around the apartment. The first time he saw this, King admittedly watched him like a hawk, trying to make sure that he was watering each and every one correctly. But there was no need to doubt him.

Ram even went so far as to say daily affirmations to them. Once he heard words leave the younger’s mouth, King couldn’t help but ask (with a lot of arm shaking) how he felt closer to his plants than him. A smile accompanied Ram’s crinkling eyes, and he only received a head pat.

He won’t tell anyone else this, but he likes their "upgraded" dynamic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if i can get a chapter done by Monday because it's already half done i just gotta like **write**
> 
> i do read your comments and will do some aggressive replies when i wake up at 2pm later today aha (yes I am much chaos)
> 
> hecc tho thank you for your support !!!1!
> 
>   
>  (Kim Sangyeon of The Boyz)


	11. your existence changes my world like magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> king becomes the sleepiest boy, and honestly, if anyone told him that this first day back was just a lucid dream and he would totally believe that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone!! I AM SORRY FOR THE TARDINESS i've started participating in a lot of outside orgs and it's been p gr9 but I've also become much more preoccupied. also it's late and i have to be awake in a couple hours for an internship. 
> 
> say it with me everyone? what is this not? **r e s p o n s i b i l i ty** it's okay, this chapter is a lil bigger (almost 4K words like wow) and the events that occur are utter chaos. 
> 
> it is just like. pure chaos. simultaneously soft. but a lot A LOT of chaos. 
> 
> hope you enjoy :>

After riding the bus for months, King has become accustomed to its soft rumbling. It bothered him in the beginning, very different from the smooth drive of Bohn’s car. However, it feels like how a parent rocks their child to sleep. Whenever his eyelids droop, his head leans, but as soon as he’s falling asleep, a shot of consciousness shoots through his body as he feels his head fall down, causing this cycle of nodding.

This morning, King had barely woken up in time, but he was still tired. His body had too thoroughly enjoyed his night in his regular bed and was protesting his consciousness. Worried more about plants than self, he rushed towards the pots. Ram, who was chilling out at the end of the couch, shoved him into the bathroom to get dressed, all the while reassuring him the plants were watered. 

Unfortunately, they had to run. The bus driver looks at them, slightly surprised when King and Ram step on the bus together but doesn’t do much more. They patter to their seats, and the moment King sits down, the orange sun shining warmly on his skin, he lets out a big yawn. 

Eventually, he rests soundly on the glass and is able to rest a little bit more. After what only feels like seconds later, he’s being shaken awake, he whines, yearning for a few more minutes. 

But how is he so comfortable? He usually has a minor migraine whenever he sleeps against the window. Eventually, when he finally pulls his eyes open, he sees Ram pulling his arm out from around him, rotating his shoulder and flexing his hand. His phone buzzes.

 **Private Chat between cool boy and** **👑**  
_08:24_

 **cool boy**  
Your head was hitting the glass.  
It looked really painful.  
You don’t need to lose any of those brain cells.

King smiles slightly at the joke. “Thank you, then,” he says.

 **cool boy**  
Just use my shoulder next time.  
It’s more comfortable. 

King pokes the area a few times. “It seems too boney to me,” he grumbles. Then he takes the younger’s hand and squeezes his palm softly a few times. “But then again, this is softer than expected.” His eyes only see the lines carved into his palm and the swirls on his fingers’ pads. However, as he looks through the spaces in between his fingers, he can see Ram staring at him intently.

 **cool boy**  
You can try it out later.  
We’re here.

The junior, now standing, offers his hand out to King, although it really isn’t necessary. The senior still takes it.

He likes it whenever they have physical contact, be it a hand placed comfortingly on his head or securely around his elbow, their shoulders brushing lightly together on a bumpy bus, or their fingers brushing beneath a thin layer of suds. It’s warm and pleasant. 

When they pass one of the shops on campus, the whiff of coffee and freshly baked pastries draw him in, but Ram immediately pulls him away, to his chagrin. 

“Cool Boy,” he complains, “I didn’t eat breakfast.”

Ram, ever the multitasker, continues walking but zips his backpack open. (King can’t help but think how cute it is that he carries it like a kangaroo pouch). Moments later, a paper bag is thrust in his face. Although things do start falling into place, some confusion lingers. 

“You packed me breakfast?”

The younger nods. Baffled, he pulls out a thermos. When he opens it, he can’t help but indulge in the familiar, roasted scent of his morning tea. At the bottom of the bag rests a nicely folded square of aluminum foil. 

“Nice. Toast with other ingredients,” he mutters to himself.

 **Private Chat between cool boy and** **👑**  
_08:36_

 **cool boy**  
Just call it a sandwich. 

The younger has a very much irritated expression on his face, but his eyes betray him, with that customary warmness. 

Of course, King thanks him, causing a familiar hand to rest comfortably in his hair.

** **** **  


“Since when can you use more than the toaster in the mornings?” Boss asks. 

King arrived at their table, sandwich in hand and thermos stuck securely to the side of his backpack. He shrugs and sits down. 

To change the subject, hoping that nobody would bring up The Stove Incidents (where he accidentally broke the knob of his gas stove and he decided hey what about a towel to bat it out, and that is exactly not what happened. So then everyone thought an electric stove would do the trick but that still ended up in plumes of smoke to fill his apartment), he asks everyone how their breaks were, although they were very obnoxiously broadcasted through their group chat. 

But something is wrong. Rather, the atmosphere is too mundane. Even after a break. 

Last semester, Bohn had run onto campus, his hands somehow stuck in mason jars and his favorite bracelet hanging by his fingers, mockingly. They’d hacked away at the glass carefully with the corners of their phones. And the semester before that, Mek had openly declared his love for Boss, although everyone else already knew. Boss had seen Mek standing on top of the table, shouting that he loved him, and Boss, the sweet, oblivious boy he was, grinned happily at him and yelled the same. 

Everyone knew it was the wrong kind of love. 

A potential breakfastgate situation could arise with him and his toast with extra ingredients, but, at least for now, that crisis has been averted. 

“The jaw pretty much guaranteed that I couldn’t give any head,” Bohn starts. Boss immediately screams LALALA while plugging his ears, while the rest stare at him, visibly disgusted. 

“Please don’t,” King says softly. He can feel the collective pain from everyone.

“But it was a good time. Not just sexually,” he emphasizes, “And hopefully they will be for a while. Duen’s still worried about Ram because all he really said was that he was in a ‘safe place’ but he really wants to know his exact coordinates.” Bohn a couple of weeks ago would have been much more bitter about this displaced attention, so the slight tinge of discontentment is a definite improvement. “I don’t blame him. I mean, I’d probably do the same thing if it were any of you, but then again I doubt you would in the first place.” He trails off a little, obviously lost in his thoughts.

“But you’re happy, right?” King summarizes.

“Yeah,” he smiles slightly. 

“I can date Phu with no worries,” Tee exclaims excitedly, “There were so many beach dates with picnics.” The senior has so many stars in his eyes, it's simultaneously endearing and disgusting.

Boss speaks up next. “Mek brought us out to the park for a nice walk, but that was way too boring so I forced him to slow dance with me,” he giggles uncontrollably. Mek shifts in his seat a little, eyes set on Boss, and a grin growing on his face.

“And then we made out.” Everyone else stares incredulously at him. “We were drunk okay?” he immediately defends, “And he properly asked me out the next day. So,” he throws up some jazz hands. “Surprise.”

So this was the introduction to their usual semester chaos. 

Any semblance of peace they might have had, begins to fall apart, starting with Bohn spacing out a little, trying to properly understand what's happened, and Tee yelling at Mek. 

“YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE THE RESPONSIBLE ONE.”

King stills at the comment. Unable to hold himself back, he stands up. “WAIT FUCK YOU THAT’S ME.”

“DUDE THAT’S LITERALLY ONLY ABOUT YOUR PLANTS. MEK IS JUST OVERALL SUPPORTIVE UNCLE ENERGY, WHICH MEANS, BY ASSOCIATION, HE’S SUPER RESPONSIBLE.”

“I’M DESIGNATED DRIVER LITERALLY ALL THE TIME. I CARE ABOUT PEOPLE TOO.”

“NOT AS MUCH AS HIM! YOU LITERALLY MOURNED THE DEATH OF A FUCKING FLOWER LAST YEAR.”

"CORA WAS MORE THAN A FLOWER YOU ASSHOLE!"

King knows that his friends are fixed on him and Tee. He’d even seen a few students stare at them and jump at the loud exclamations in the corner of his eye. Eventually, they sit back down. He, very disappointed for being so optimistic about his friend and his confession capabilities, begrudgingly slides 500 baht to Bohn. Tee does the same. 

“I believed in you,” he accuses, “I was like aha before the end of our junior year because you know you had the balls to yell out you loved him and shit,” He brings his hands down firmly onto Mek’s shoulders and shakes him back and forth, each word he says accented with a push, “but no.”

“I really thought graduation would’ve been perfect,” Tee continues, “A fear of leaving behind your best friend after years of seeing each other every day. The romance.” He stands up dramatically, one heart resting on his chest, and other reaching upwards as if he’s talking to the sky. “If things were going to change anyway why not just add some more to the mix?”

Bohn nods, agreeing with his friend. “Graduation and pressure.”

“Wait,” Boss asks, “If you said graduation too, why is Tee giving you money?”

“Duen. We all thought he was weird for saying Boss would confess so we told him he didn’t have to choose when,” he declares, waving the bills lightly in the air, “Should’ve made him choose a date.” Bohn sticks another bill to the stack, sadness evident before putting it in his shirt pocket. 

Tee turns to Boss, “How did you know?”

The smaller man’s smile deflates a little. King can tell that there’s probably more to the narrative he’s giving, that he hadn’t realized he could be attracted to men, and that he’d become so comfortable with Mek he hadn’t considered him as a possible partner until he was kissed, but he knows better than to pry. Internalized homophobia is a fucking bitch to deal with, and although an arduous journey, he prays true acceptance will find him. And the fear of what feels like inevitable rejection? Not to mention other factors such as the conditions you were raised to believe, especially about homosexuality.

There’s of course more, but it isn’t for him to ask about. 

Regardless of the struggles he must be feeling, Boss has a genuine smile on his face as he wraps his arms, albeit more gingerly than usual, around Mek who is beaming.

All King can truly say is that he’s happy that they’re happy.

** **** **  


When the chair scrapes next to him in math, he thinks that it’s just some random kid who decided to spice up his schedule. As he turns to bow politely to them, he immediately stops when he spots a familiar profile.

“Cool Boy?” he exclaims, pleasant shock clear in his voice, “But you don’t attend lectures.”

Ram shrugs his shoulders and pulls out a notebook. 

“Why are you here?” he continues to pester, “Is there actually something you don’t get?”

King expects a text to appear on his phone, but nothing happens. The younger doesn’t say anything during class, even when the professor raises her eyebrows at him. 

During the small moments he can take peaks at him (he might be compromising any potential retention, but he can’t help it if there’s something more interesting in his proximity), his notes are utter nonsense. 

They’re clear as day writing-wise but very much incomplete; just parts of words and selective numbers. With how much this class means to him, he can’t necessarily stare at Ram, even if he may want to (he kinda does, like leaning towards yes?)

At least his schedule’s been spiced up a little.

** **** **  


The senior is sitting comfortably at the coffee table, scribbling some numbers for his Fluid Dynamics problem set. He’d immediately rushed home after class, not bothering to walk Ram to Linguistics, so he could catch up with the workload, which in King talk is being at least a week ahead in all of his classes. 

He’s in the zone and doesn’t really notice the door open until a clear, light voice calls out his name. 

It’s his sister. She opens her arms widely, hands motioning him over. The smile that appears on his face is genuine; he really does love his sister, but he can’t help but worry about how he’s going to explain Ram to her. Hopefully, he can get her out by then. 

“How have you been?” she asks jovially. She begins inspecting him, flipping through his hair, staring at his face, patting his shoulders, and an excessive amount of curiosity on her face. So he lightly slaps her hands away and turns around to walk deeper into his apartment. 

“I’ve been fine. School’s just started up again. But why are you here?”He prepares a cup of tea for her.

While he’s pouring the hot water into the cup, she pulls up his Facebook page and points at the profile picture. “Explain.”

“I don’t get it.” he ducks under her arm to reach the honey on the counter.

The next time the phone screen is in his face, all he can see is Ram’s tattooed forearm. “Who is this?” He tilts over to look at her. His sister sits in front of him, draped dramatically over the counter. 

“A friend.”

She doesn’t believe him. “But he’s so close to you,” she emphasizes, zooming in on where his arm rests on his shoulder. 

King pushes the phone screen down and simply hands her the warm mug. 

“Is this the only reason you’re here?” he deadpans.

She rolls her eyes but starts digging into her bag. “I can’t be curious about my baby brother’s love life?” Gradually, a few containers appear on the table. “Mom wanted me to give you some more tea to try. Dad brought them back from Tibet, and he thinks you’ll really like them.”

He smiles at the sentiment. “I was going to go home this weekend, you know.” His pink traces lightly over the colorful metal patterns. 

She waves him off. “I just so happened to stop by today, and you’re on my way home anyway.”

“How are your boys?” He laughs at her sigh of despair. They both like to comb their hair back in the same way, truly a Thatanep tradition. When she drags the sunglasses off her head, a few strands of dark hair attach to it and make a mess of her hair, but her fingers easily put them back into place.

“Troublemakers,” she summarizes, “They just like getting their hands on everything, and the word no means nothing to them.”

“So nothing has changed.”

“They’re smarter. It makes everything so much worse.”

King smiles again. His nephews are the sweetest kids, although they are the littlest of shits. 

“Although you literally barged in here to interrogate me about my love life, I’ll do you a favor and take the kids off your hands when you need,” he offers. She slaps him over the side of your head.

“That’s your obligation as a sibling,” she states in disbelief, “Don’t act like you’re being so gracious by offering me your time.”

He points at himself. “I am a senior. And I need all the time I can get to maintain my grades,” he explains.

“Shut the fuck up, you’ve literally maintained a 4.0 GPA without breaking a sweat.”

Unsurprisingly, their argument, although admittedly also a weird way of them catching up, lasts for a while. They don’t necessarily yell, but the passion is definitely endearing. However, it is loud enough for them to not hear the door opening and close.

While his sister is yelling about the troubles of childbirth and how she can totally sympathize with their mother about the inherent curse that is having sons, he receives a text.

 **Private Chat between cool boy and** **👑**  
_19:37_

 **cool boy**  
I DIDN’T HIT MYSELF IN THE HEAD WITH THE NICKEL PLANT  
FINALLY

King immediately smiles down at his phone. He’s never seen him so excitable.

 **👑**  
I’m so proud of youuuuu

But then it hits him: there would be no plant for Ram to avoid if he wasn’t back.

He looks left a little bit, which is definitely his mistake. Ram is leaning casually on the doorframe to the bedroom, fingers moving rapidly. His sister catches on rapidly and immediately spots the junior. Her hand goes to her mouth.

“Show me your right forearm!” she charges at him, no warning. The younger quickly dodges her advances, escaping into the bedroom. Before she can do it herself, King draws his arms around her waist and stops her.

“I have no idea how you’re married to such a peaceful man,” he mutters, dragging her back a little more and sitting her on the couch. The anger on her face is quite hilarious.

He’s about to ask her to leave when Ram walks out of the room, changed into a t-shirt and shorts, which unfortunately for King, does reveal his tattoo. He prays, to all that is holy, to any higher deity, that maybe, probably, she won’t see-

“IS THIS YOU?” she yells. Ram jumps at the loud voice, which makes the senior’s heart clench a little, but the younger, regardless, nods. He stops by King and rests a palm lightly into his hair, mussing up a little, and then quietly walks into the kitchen to cook.

King and his sister stare at each other for a while.

“You lied to me,” she simply says.

“No, he really is just my friend.”

“Even Bohn doesn’t have a key to your apartment.”

“But Bohn doesn’t live here.” His sister’s eyes widened. King’s already dug his own grave, he realizes, so might as well go some ways deeper. He rubs his face with his hands. “He literally went into the bedroom to change.”

“You sleep on the same bed!” she exclaims, both scandalized and intrigued.

“No!” He pulls her up and shoves her towards the door, putting her bag in her hands and her glasses back in her hair. “But,” he softens at the door, “Can you not go around telling people? He really doesn’t want other people to know where he is. And I know how you are sometimes, telling everyone everything, so this could be really futile, but I just really wanted to try,” he rapidly says. 

His sister looks at him intently. Although she’s not touching him all around this time, her gaze feels so much more intrusive. 

“Do you like him?” she asks, tone settling into something more serious. “I haven’t seen you this relaxed in a while. He seems good for you.”

The siblings stare at each other, but King doesn’t say anything. Even without words, the conversation is well understood. It’s a relief for the senior.

The customary popping of oil fills their silence. “Is he cooking dinner for you right now?” King smiles at her sheepishly. “You have good taste, baby brother.” She reaches out to rest her hand on his head, but he immediately swats her hand away. 

“You know I hate it when people do that.”

She smiles knowingly at him. “But not him.”

Unable to give her a coherent answer, he shrugs and pushes her out the door. 

“I’ll keep my promise,” she reassures, holding her pinky out. He loops their pinkies and lets their thumbs touch for a moment. 

“Thank you.”

** **** **  


King is staring up at the ceiling, not quite knowing what to do during tonight’s bout of insomnia.

 **Private Chat between cool boy and** **👑**  
_00:19_

 **cool boy**  
Are you awake?

 **👑**  
unfortunately yes  
i hate this fucking couch

 **cool boy**  
We can switch if you want?

 **👑**  
sounds stupid  
we both need sleep

 **cool boy**  
Then how about just splitting the bed?

He almost drops his phone on his face.

 **cool boy**  
I’m being serious.  
It’s, first of all, belongs to you.  
But I also heavily prefer the bed. 

King weighs the pros and cons in his head, but honestly, there are no real cons except that he has to share his bed, but it’s with Ram, so it definitely negates it. Morning wood could be really embarrassing though, and what if it sends a bunch of weird messages, and the atmosphere gets awkward.

 **cool boy**  
I can feel you thinking too much.  
Just come here. 

And he does. With a gentle push of the door, he can see Ram quietly sitting up at the head of the bed. Although he’s so accustomed to this space, there’s a different aura to it when Ram is here. 

The blankets are undisturbed, only slightly displaced, but still tucked in as they were that morning. Music plays softly from his phone speaker, the light from its screen harshly highlighting the edges in his face. However, as he walks closer to him, the senior notices faint but shiny trails on his face. 

King takes a seat next to the younger, his pillow hugged to his chest. They’re close enough where he can feel the heat radiating from his arm, and like a moth drawn to a flame, he scoots a bit closer to him. 

The act of physical comfort isn’t necessarily the most needed form of comfort, but it physically shows that someone is there for you. Some people call it weird that he lingers around, quietly, but all King wants is to not put too much pressure onto him. He’s just abiding by the "do unto others as you would want to be done for you" logic. 

It’s a matter of choice. Albeit little, it makes him feel like there’s at least some control in the situation. He hopes it's the same for the younger. King says nothing, opening the floor to Ram. He simply turns his phone off but says nothing.

“Do you want to talk about it right now?” he asks. 

“No,” Ram says quietly next to him. He leans his head on his shoulder. 

“I’m just doing as you suggested,” he says in an attempt to lighten the mood. The younger hums in acknowledgment. King feels an arm loop around his waist, pulling him in a little bit closer. 

“Isn’t it more comfortable?” Ram asks.

King’s mouth is forced open with a yawn. He half rubs, half nods his head. 

“Is nice,” he slurs a little.

Ram starts moving around, disrupting King’s pocket of still comfort. But the moment the mattress hits his back and blankets cover his body, there’s no reason for him to complain. His eyes are already sinking. 

“Night,” he murmurs. 

“I’ll tell you eventually,” he hears vaguely. Something soft presses lightly against his temple, but before he can determine if it really was a kiss or just a lucid manifestation of his personal desires, King falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> h i hi hi h i h i
> 
> thank you for taking the time to read this big chaos. and yes, i'm inching towards the what's happened to ram thing, because as a character, i believe he needs time to open up, and him telling ram to come into the room where he is is an indirect cry for help underplayed by a yearning for comfort while sleeping. 
> 
> confirmed; king is also gradually letting the emotions sink, although there's definitely some hesitation, there's no real denial anymore, so p r o g r e ss
> 
> anyways; I'll see you all in at least seven days (NOT TEN)
> 
> mwaH:
> 
>   
>  (Kang Yeosang of ATEEZ)


	12. clear breath drenches the night in moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> projects are stressful, and poor anxious king feels the brunt of that pain, but ram is always a blessing, although the senior might not see it that way. and a challenger arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i swear i had 2/3 of this chapter done, planning on finishing it last night, and then I had the worst stomachache like i usually have a pretty stronk system but then my body said lol no suffer haha.
> 
> anyways here it is!! gotta spice it up a bit lolol.

That next night, Ram tucks himself into the left side of the bed and quietly reads a book. And the senior says nothing because he doesn’t mind the other’s presence. 

However, the night after, in an attempt to maintain their usual switching schedule, King lays down on the couch. Ram stares at him from the door frame, silently asking him why he wasn’t coming in. The senior just turns off the lights to the living room and rolls around to face the couch cushions. His quiet sigh of disappointment, paired with the closing of the door convinces King that he’s successful.

A couple of hours later, nature beckons him awake from his unsatisfying sleep. When he swings his feet onto the floor, he immediately knows something was wrong. They land too high, and on too soft of a surface. A surface that moves and groans. Startled, he pulls his legs back, arms blindly reaching for the light switch

It was a body. After a quiet sound of disdain, a forearm presses against his eyes as the other arm slaps him lightly, obviously irritated. 

“I can’t believe you,” King says, kicking him lightly, “You had the bed tonight.”

Ram squints at him from the floor and nods back at the bedroom. 

“I didn’t want to invade your personal space.”

The younger’s eyes open up a bit, just to reveal pure skepticism. 

“Okay,” the senior continues, “Just because I didn’t mind doesn’t mean you wouldn’t mind.”

Ram’s gaze doesn’t waver. King stretches his limbs out a little bit and yawns, very much trying to burn time. The younger blinks at him expectantly. 

Having to go to the restroom, and the general appeal of his bed gradually grate away at his resolve. He passes through the bedroom and into the restroom, and when he comes out, Ram is already sitting on the bed.

“I won’t leave,” he promises, patting his shoulder. The younger watches him intently as if to ensure he wouldn’t run away. Even if he wanted to (he doesn’t), he really can’t with how quickly his eyes are closing. King barely registers the lights turning off.

** **** **  


King doesn’t hate a lot of things in life, but one of them is definitely members of the “Oh I’m So Smart I Gotta Show It Off” Club. The professor was a good lecturer but literally only knew anything about his research and physics. Social dynamics seemed to fly right over his head. So, he put the senior in a group with a new transfer Ohm who apparently had potential but wasn’t applying himself, in hopes that his work ethic would influence him to work better. 

(hiS woRk eThiC woULd iNfLuenCe HiM tO wORk BetTEr. )

Once the groupings were announced earlier that semester, he’d approached the senior, directly asking for his number. His friends around him were jeering him on, not so subtly telling him to get that dick. Many would say that Ohm was rightly cocky, with his intelligence, charisma, and naturally good looks, but King couldn’t really recognize any of the positives when the glaring negative that was his excessively arrogant personality was so blinding. 

And even if he were to tell the professor just how incompetent he was, which he plans to do so during their weekly office hour chats at some point, he’s pretty sure he won’t give him another partner. He didn’t know much about Ohm, only that he was a notorious flirt who had somehow charmed the prof into loving him. However, if King does phenomenally on it without complaint, he’s guaranteeing himself a really good letter of recommendation for graduate school. 

The day before the first interim check of their prototype, he wakes up in a cold sweat. Yes, it’s just CADs, but they aren’t his forte and everything has to be perfect. He can’t help but fear that he added or forgot a sig fig somewhere, for some reason didn’t put things at the right angle, or accidentally deleted it. He had Ram check his numbers a few times, and the younger gradually pointed out fewer and fewer corrections until there was nothing apparently wrong. 

And he has at least five backups of that final file. But, he can’t help but think anything could happen.

His phone tells him it’s a few minutes before six. Four hours was probably the best he was going to get. With how much weight is being put on this project, or better said how much weight he’s putting on this project, it’s difficult for him to rest well.

Knowing there’s no way he’d be able to fall back asleep, he chooses the more productive, although painstaking choice, getting ready for the day. As he gets up, he spares a glance at the younger, who seems to still be sound asleep. After taking a few seconds to readjust the blanket over him, he takes a brief trip to the restroom. 

Most days, this isn’t the case, as King has learned. Even without his dogs, Ram is very consistent in his runs, waking up hours before the senior. And then when he does awaken, the younger sits at the dining table, half-dressed and scrolling through his phone, while King’s breakfast warmly waits in front of him. Of course, they don’t speak, but inexplicably so, Ram has become such a necessary brightness to his mornings.

King doesn’t recall the last time he’s felt so comfortable around someone so quickly. The origin feels so different from the product. He and Bohn are close because of time, naturally pushing them together and enjoyably forcing them to learn about each other. But, King likes having Ram around regardless of how little time they’d spent together, and he wants to learn more about the younger. And from what he’s collected, King is pretty sure the feeling is mutual; the appreciation they have is different from what he has with Bohn, maybe more intimate and true, but he doesn’t know what it is. 

In the middle of him brushing his teeth, the door opens behind him, revealing a very shirtless Ram in the mirror’s reflection. 

“Morning,” he mumbles, trying to not stare. His tattoos were just, just right there. That urge to trace the dark lines with his fingers emerges in his mind, but again, that feels very much socially unacceptable. (Why is he like this?) Ram simply grins at him lopsidedly and pushes him aside gently with his hip so he can also get ready for the day.

He’s come very far from just seeing him as an attractive person on his bus, definitely accelerated with their roommate situation, so it frustrates him a little not being able to completely understand what’s up. But based on the matching bags under his eyes, it's affecting his sleep too.

“Where the fuck did your shirt go?” he can’t help but ask. The other’s smile grows impossibly larger. He lazily points out the door, where in the dimly lit room, he can vaguely see a small, light pile of fabric on the floor. 

“Sleep stripping,” he somewhat jokingly proposes. Ram considers the idea but ultimately nods. “If it’s too hot, I don’t mind turning the heat down a bit. Or just stealing all the blankets.” He just shrugs and brings the toothbrush to his mouth. 

They stare at each other for a bit in the mirror’s reflection. 

“Couldn’t sleep well?” he eventually asks in an attempt to normalize their conversation. Ram shakes his head. “Me too.” King leans into the mirror dramatically so that he could see more details of the darkened skin. “See they’re so bad.”

He turns to the younger who has his toothbrush adorably sticking out of the corner of his mouth. Ram rinses his mouth out, and then quickly closes the distance between them. The sink digging lightly into his lower back, King can feel his warm breath brush lightly over his face and mint tickle his nose. Their eyes inevitably lock, and the senior wills himself to not shrink away. 

After what feels like forever, Ram’s gaze flicks down to, well King really isn’t sure. Practically, it’s probably just his dark circles, but his heart skips at the possibility he’s looking at something else, maybe the soft skin that’s caught between his teeth. Regardless, the younger cradles his cheek and lets his thumb trail lightly under his eye. His gaze is firm, full of concentration and thought. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Ram mouth something, but damn him and his quiet nature because King has no idea what he says.

Feeling overwhelmed, King abruptly pats the younger’s hand and starts to move away. He makes the mistake of looking into the mirror again and being visually attacked by Ram and his now intrigued and amused expression. He can’t take it and awkwardly closes the bathroom door once he’s entered the bedroom.

 **Private Chat between cool boy and** **👑**  
_06:14_

 **cool boy**  
Let’s do that again some time. 

**👑**  
what’d you say 

**cool boy**  
Did I actually say something? 

**👑**  
I saw your mouth moving

 **cool boy**  
So you were looking at my lips?  
Is there something you wanna tell me?

 **👑**  
Coooool Boooooy  
NOT INTENTIONALLY

 **cool boy**  
I just said you were pretty

 **👑**  
ahaha  
you’re funny  
maybe like after i’ve gotten ready  
i wouldn’t describe myself as pretty  
Handsome, sure  
But pretty  
Idk about that

 **cool boy**  
You’re rambling

 **👑**  
and you’re in the bathroom  
Are we just stating the obvious now, CoOL BOY

 **cool boy**  
And terrible at being smooth

 **👑**  
tHATS A LIE  
I’ve been successful  
I winked at you that one time

 **cool boy**  
Mhm?  
Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.

 **👑**  
I was expecting a bad river pun  
Much surprise.

 **cool boy**  
A pleasant surprise?

King stares down at his phone and then down at his completely not ready state. He’s warm again. And probably very very red. He has to stop digging his own holes. Like yes, sure he’d played along before with the younger’s antics but now that his feelings have started to take shape, King doesn’t know what to do. Because Ram just seems like a flirt; it’s in his nature, and he doesn’t want to give himself false hope. 

He gets dressed as fast as possible before Ram exits the bathroom, texting the younger back as he moves towards the living room.

 **👑**  
It’s too early for this  
Just go run or something

After filling all of the bottles up, King puts them on his belt, something he’d invested in once he’d filled up his foyer with plants, and gets to work. About ten minutes later, he feels two of the bottles being taken out from behind him. Ram, clad in his workout gear, nods towards the door, telling him he’ll start there. King sends him a thumbs up and keeps watering the ones sitting on the windowsill. Ram’s learning of how to care for the plants has been such a godsend to King; while yes, he makes delicious homemade food, he also indirectly lets him sleep for thirty more minutes. 

His plants do seem to like Ram a lot. He cares for them in the way they want, and they flourish accordingly. King can’t help but feel fond of the whole situation. 

When he’s done, he hangs his belt back up on the wall and collapses onto the couch. Just as he’s settled, his phone buzzes.

 **Private Chat between cool boy and** **👑**  
_06:45_

**cool boy**  
Go nap in your bed.  
I’ll wake you up when I get back.

King slumps further down onto the couch and shuts his eyes, waving the younger away. “The bed is too far,” he quickly complains. 

Moments later he's being pulled away from the couch. “What!” he screeches. Ram easily carries him bridal style. No amount of aggressive wriggling will get him out of his surprisingly strong grip. “Wait fuck Cool Boy I was kidding.” His legs flail uselessly in the air. “I probably was going to go when you left anyways,” he whines. 

Within seconds, they’re back in his room, and King’s being thrown onto his bed. Ram stares down at him, more amused than earlier. He walks out and cheekily waves all the while.

 **Private Chat between cool boy and** **👑**  
_06:53  
cool boy changed 👑’s nickname to sweetheart_

 **cool boy**  
Sleep well

** **** **  


When King wakes up from the, although he doesn’t want to admit it, very much needed nap, Ram is seated at the kitchen table, food prepared in front of him like it’s any other day. He immediately turns into the kitchen to brew some tea for both of them.

Ram seems to have just registered his presence. Once their eyes meet, the senior sees his gaze soften, as it does every morning when he pads out of his bedroom. The junior may not emote as much as a normal person, but he does still feel the same things. Like his customary deadpan stare has more dimensions than one would think. The slightest twitch of the mouth, an eyebrow shift, head movement, all meant drastically different things. Or at least that’s his theory for now. He thinks he’s picked up on some of the younger’s microexpressions. 

And that shift in his staring always has King feeling this particular way as if his heart is blooming just a little bit more. Instead of brushing it away, like he usually does, he lets himself enjoy the sensation for once. As he sits down in front of him, he slides the other cup across the table. 

They sit quietly, but comfortably. King is munching on the warm sandwich. Over the edge of his phone, he spots the younger staring inquisitively at the end of the dining table, where there are three, small pots of seemingly just soil.

“Those are the new seeds I got,” King explains. “Venus flytraps.” Ram blinks a few times, a bit rapidly, expressing his confusion. “They eat bugs.” His eyes widen slightly at this. King searches up a picture of them and shows it to the younger. He’s immediately intrigued. “From what I’ve read they're really hard to germinate. They require really specific care and take a long time to open up,” he laughs at his own pun. The senior pauses for a moment, “But I’m sure it’ll be worth it.”

King doesn’t need to look up to know that Ram is staring at him. And as he does anyways, his thoughts are immediately confirmed when their eyes meet. That gaze is familiar. He doesn’t really remember when it’s shown up, but it’s definitely made its way into his apartment before. 

The expression dissipates quickly. Seeing that King is done with his food, Ram picks up and cleans the dirty dish. The senior concluded weeks ago saying anything about it was pretty useless, so he’s settled with becoming the dryer to his washer. And he always wipes his hands on the junior’s shirt. Surprisingly, Ram never does anything about it. As per usual, he dries his hand on the allocated kitchen towel and pets his head. He adjusts his bangs a bit, probably still frazzled with bed head. 

It feels too similar to earlier. Their faces are too close and- 

“We have to leave soon,” he voices, trying to stop his brain. “The bus.” Ram points to his bag already resting on the couch and continues to adjust his hair. 

“Well, I,” King continues, barely slipping away from Ram, “have to retrieve my bag.”

Alone in his room, he stares at himself in the mirror, messy hair and all. He wets it a bit and it looks a lot more tamer, to his relief. He can kind of imagine Ram standing next to him, turning around and leaning in to-

King forces his eyes shut and to take in a few breaths. 

Roommate; romantic feelings; sure, but not now. They’re just close. 

(this is why he can’t have nice things like properly digesting his feelings)

When he deems himself calm enough, he exits. Ram immediately points out that he doesn’t have said bag.

** **** **  


“My group is amazing,” Boss sighs comfortably. His arm rests comfortably over Mek’s legs, who’s propped himself on top of the table, completely disregarding the chair in front of him. 

Tee rolls his eyes. “Just because you have your boyfriend?”

“You’re just annoyed that you're dating a freshman,” the other pushes back, sticking his tongue out. 

Bohn, most notably, has nothing on his desk and shrugs. “Mind said she’d take care of the first part, and then I could input our ideas and refine it later or something.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to make her do all the work,” Mek chides.

Before he can answer, Tee interrupts. “He can’t. She’s way too good at splitting the work. If you slack off, she’ll tell the prof for sure.” Bohn just nods.

They’re in their design class, and King is dreading this preliminary evaluation. It’s not like he’s going to be called out about their progress in front of his peers, but it might as well be like that. 

A few minutes before class officially begins, Ohm rolls in quietly on his skateboard.

“What’s up Prof,” he says, very disingenuously, with a wiggle of finger guns toward him. His eyes land in the back where King sits, and he sends him a brief wink.

Anger and frustration begin to manifest, threatening to burst his typically collected composure. “Cocky incompetent fucker,” he mutters to himself. 

“He’s really smart,” Bohn poses next to him, “He wouldn’t be a second year in a senior-level class for nothing.”

His hands tighten their grip on the edge of the desk. “Then why didn’t he respond to any of my texts or say anything useful during class meetings?”

Nobody can give him a good answer. 

They sit quietly through the rest of the class, King intently writing down everything their teacher says while noting questions to ask later with Mek doing something similar, although he’s having a much harder time with Boss resting on his shoulder. Tee reworks dimensions for his project, while Bohn stares quietly back and forth between his and King’s papers as he tries to copy his notes. 

Eventually, once they’re told to submit their projects both he and Ohm walk up at the same time with two very different folders. 

“This is a group project,” their teacher deadpans.

The two of them talk outside the classroom.

“Why not just reply to my texts?” King immediately asserts.

Ohm scoffs. “I read them. And from what I see we have basically the same thing. You honestly can’t blame me for being skeptical. I barely see you do anything. It’s your last semester so why would you even work super hard?”

“Because I’m trying to get into a good grad program?” 

“All I’ve seen you do is hang out with your friends or your boyfriend,” Ohm retorts. 

His mouth opens to defend himself but pauses for a moment. “What boyfriend?”

“That first year that beat up Bohn,” he easily replies. 

King stares, still taken aback by the comment. He isn’t seen often with the younger, for all he knows, just when walking onto campus and the occasional lunch between friend groups. Was that a rumor floating around or was this second year just looking too deeply into his interpersonal relationships? “He’s just a friend,” he automatically defends, “Nothing more.”

“Doesn’t he live with you?”

He deflects. “What?”

“Yeah,” the younger continued, “I was hanging out with my brother last week and I saw you walk into your apartment in front of me. And then when I left, he came in after.”

King is truly left speechless. “And roommate,” he weakly adds. 

“So, no boyfriend?” the younger poses cheekily.

King aggressively shakes his head, hoping his defense works. 

Ohm smirks slightly. “We can meet up to work on the project, say Friday?”

“Oh, so now you want to collaborate?” he quips obviously irritated.

The younger throws his board on the floor and starts to roll away. “We’ll figure out the details later!” he announces, blowing a kiss back at him. 

When King turns around he can see his friends sitting not very covertly at a table a few yards away. 

Boss plants his hands on his shoulders and begins to jump excitedly. “You finally have a date!”

“With that asshole? I w-”

“Hot asshole,” Mek supplements, triggering a quick look of disdain from his boyfriend.

“I would never stoop that low,” he concludes.

“Hit it and quit it,” Bohn summarizes. Tee crudely sticks his pointer finger through the circle made with his other hand. 

King’s face wrinkles in disgust as he slaps the other’s hands down. “Casual sex isn’t my thing. I get too attached and it’s not ideal, to say the least.”

“Like you’ve gotten attached to Ram,” Mek says. 

"You slept with Ram?!" Boss exclaims. King automatically cups a hand over his mouth. 

"No," he says pointedly at him. Then he turns to look at his friends, and repeats, very emphatically, "NO."

Bohn looks slightly offended. “But how? He literally dislocated my jaw.”

“Best three weeks of my life,” King answers, trying to avoid the question. And it kind of works, to his surprise as most of the discourse warps into complaints about Bohn and their excessive knowledge of his explicit sex life. Those three weeks had muffled that intensity to everyone’s relief. 

While he's glad the teasing has gone away from him, he still can’t help wonder why or how Ohm thought they were dating.

** **** **  


**Private Chat between cool boy and** **👑**  
_18:46_

**sweetheart**  
i’m eating out tonight  
i can bring food home for you if you want  
wait  
wtf is this shit  
COOL BOY  
WHEN DID MY NICKNAME CHANGE

 **cool boy**  
Okay.  
See you later. 

**sweetheart**  
ANSWER ME  
COOOOOL BOOOY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading until the end!! i hope everyone is doing relatively well in the chaos that is are current world. and i hope this story is a bright spot in your days!!
> 
> i adore reading your comments because i get the fuzzies and that's a p great feeling ngl:
> 
> (Jae Park (eaJ) of Day6)
> 
> if you were wondering i 100% imagined ohm to be [Ohm Pawat](https://www.instagram.com/p/B9oahFKB0re/?igshid=1bdt8c6zux7vr) like if any of y'all are watching the Shipper, it's weird (i fell in too deep like it's really REALLY Weird) but Ohm is a whole blessing there like he's such a cheeky fucker but he's **m y** cheeky fucker. he's perfect i'm sorry i don't make up the rules.


	13. find my hand, the light in the darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so a vibe is felt as ohm solidifies his presence. while some of king's friends are supportive, others become wary. ram wants to include himself in that boat, but there's definitely more than just concern for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> henlo todos. I hope you're doing well this fine dead of the night. 
> 
> THIS HA S SURPASSED 3500 hits, my heart is soft and I love all of y'all. 
> 
> I again have done a big suffer and posted much too late for my own good. so this is a bit chaotic and the flow not as smooth as i want. hopefully i will come back to clean it up a bit. 
> 
> but, please do enjoy!!

King immediately groans in disdain when the notification appears on his phone.

 **Private Chat between Thatanep King and Ohm Chulanot**  
_20:16_

 **Ohm Chulanot**  
So about tomorrow  
It’s good that we’re going to the library

 **Thatanep King**  
Why

He knows he shouldn’t entertain the younger, but he can’t help himself.

 **Ohm Chulanot**  
I’ll have my library card to check you out.

Ram is peeking over his shoulder not so subtly. His face is wrung with disdain and disgust.

“It’s him again,” he summarizes. He’s told the younger about the second year, and his struggles to properly communicate with him. The bad pickup lines are a definite new thing, contradicting assertions about his flirting skills. 

They’re sitting side by side on the bed and watching a show on Ram’s laptop. The younger takes the phone, shuts it off, and nods towards the screen. 

King hums in acknowledgment, resting his head down on the other's shoulder as fatigue settles in his bones. “I’m watching, I promise.” 

Ram wraps an arm around his shoulder and rests it in his hair, slowly rubbing his fingers into his scalp. The senior swats him away. “Stop it,” he complains, “I’m getting sleepy.”

“I don’t know why you insist on watching this in bed,” Ram rumbles next to him. He brings his hand back to his head, “You just fall asleep.” 

“Not all,” he breathes out a yawn, causing tears to form in his eyes, “the time. This is your fault.”

He shuts the computer and puts it on the bed stand. King whines a little about how they hadn’t finished the episode, but Ram continues to chide him, “This project is draining you too much.”

King sinks into his pillow. “It’s all in the details. Things I don’t know.” He’s worried that their projects won’t be as similar as Ohm claims they are, so he tries to match the details up as much as possible, maybe accidentally making their whole file.

“You worry too much.”

“I’m not super worried. He’s more than competent to do the project but he’s just bad at working with people.”

Ram settles down next to him. “He’s flirting with you.” In the darkness, King can’t see his expression.

“Unsuccessfully,” he adds.

The younger doesn’t say anything after that and just turns around so his back faces him.

** **** **  


“Shouldn’t leave your stuff by itself P,” Ohm sings. He’s come back from using the restroom and fifteen minutes after they said they would meet, the second year had finally decided to make an appearance. Ohm is lounging on his chair, a smirk on his face. In his hand is King’s shoulder bag, swinging agonizingly.

The irony of his tone with the honorific doesn’t escape him. King tears his bag away from his grasp and takes the seat in front of him.

“You’re late.”

“I consolidated the pages last night,” Ohm announces, sliding a file towards King.

His jaw drops. “Umm, me too,” he admits, giving him his file.

They stare at each other with matching expressions of surprise. The senior immediately starts flipping through it. As much as he hates to say it, there’s nothing majorly wrong. He tells him the slight details he would change, you know collaboratively like they’re supposed to, and the younger surprisingly works with him, changing it in accordance with his computer file. He’s less snarky and joking the more time they spend on the designs together. Of course, there are differences in opinion, and after the debate draws on for a while, Ohm proposes something else.

“Rock paper scissors.”

King doesn’t know what to say. Except he does. “That’s stupid.”

The younger rolls his eyes. “Come on. Neither of us is going to budge and this will save us some time.”

The senior stares at him, not believing his ears.

“We’re both smart, handsome, prideful engineering students,” he lays out, “I think it’s more efficient to just get it done with.”

Does he absolutely despise the idea? Yes, but he also wants to finish this up as fast as he can.

“Fine.”

Ohm cheers himself on and then puts out a hand. “I’ll let you know; I’m a world-class champion at rock paper scissors.”

King does the same, rolling his eyes. “It’s just psychology and statistics.”

The game does lessen the tension between them a bit. A few hours later, King is significantly less irritated at the younger. They both are victims of the librarians’ angry gazes and silent threats, and it’s a weird bonding experience. 

After finishing up the profile, they talk about the logistics of their project, trying to plan as much as possible for them to accomplish. Ohm sends their professor an email with their file attached, ccing King below, and adding a picture of them together in hopes that it’ll convince him that Ohm wasn’t being a cheeky fuck and just sending his file.

King releases a sigh of relief. “Thank god we’re done.”

“For now,” Ohm adds, “We still have to make a prototype.”

This was what he was more comfortable with doing. “Let’s reserve one of the machine shops for next week. If we can do it earlier, we should be fine.” He pulls up the website. 

“Hey, are you free after this?”

The senior feels his eyebrows raise a bit at the proposal but keeps his eyes on his computer. “Yeah. This took way quicker than I expected,” he admits.

“Wanna get a late lunch with me? Some linner?”

The proposal is surprising; King’s fingers still over the keyboard. 

“Are you buying?” he asks.

Ohm laughs in front of him. “Aren’t you supposed to be the older one? You should be treating me.”

“And you should be respecting me.”

He pouts a little at him, “But I did P’King.”

“We could have avoided this altogether if it wasn’t for your assumptions,” he concludes. 

And that’s why the senior ends up sitting across from each other at a pretty nice cafe. After they order, an awkward silence falls upon them. Rather than looking across the table at Ohm, his eyes fix to his right. 

One of the accent walls is stacked with plants, real ones to his great relief. From afar, he’s been able to identify each of them, admiring how each one is actually different. He takes a picture of it to upload to social media. After having some difficulties, he finally gets up and stares at them quietly. With more detail, the names come to him easily. He looks up and sees a hanging string of nickel.

 **Private Chat between cool boy and sweetheart**  
_17:46_

 **sweetheart**  
[  
3825634.jpg](https://www.westwoodgardens.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/11/String-Of-Nickels.jpg)  
lol

 **cool boy**  
…  
That’s just mean.

 **sweetheart**  
you were almost at two weeks

 **cool boy**  
All your fault.

 **sweetheart**  
THAT’S A LIE  
;-;

 **cool boy**  
You screamed at a spider.  
I jumped while passing by the plant.  
So it’s your fault.

 **sweetheart**  
it was a big one okay

 **cool boy**  
You and I both know that’s not true.  
It was barely a centimeter long.  
This wouldn’t have happened if we had a venus fly trap...

 **sweetheart**  
another month i think and we should be good

 **cool boy**  
:))  
Are you eating at home?  
I’m trying to decide what I should cook.

He slowly walks back to his table where Ohm seems to be mostly preoccupied by his phone as well.

 **sweetheart**  
should i bring some food back?

 **cool boy**  
Why?  
Thursday was just us running out of groceries.

 **sweetheart**  
i just wanna give back for all you've done

 **cool boy**  
You let me live in your apartment without charging rent.  
This is the least I can do.

 **sweetheart**  
butbutbut  
you also buy groceries  
plus I,,, don’t caRe?  
THat’s not a problemo.

 **cool boy**  
I’m not a charity case.

 **sweetheart**  
(i also kinda miss takeout)

 **cool boy**  
Maybe next week, sweetheart.  
The fridge is still pretty full.

 **sweetheart**  
THU Rs DAY S  
every thursday from here on out  
andandand I can show you my favorite dishes

 **cool boy**  
Maybe. 

King knows if he just starts doing it, Ram probably won’t say much about it. Like the dryer thing.

 **sweetheart**  
you know i don’t care  
whatever you cook slaps

 **cool boy**  
Mkay.  
See you later.

 **sweetheart**  
buhbyyyyyye

When King puts his phone down, the second year stares at him, visibly intrigued.

“You like plants?” 

“Love them,” King admits.

“You were over there for a while.”

“They were really pretty.”

Ohm stares at him as if he’s searching his face. “If you were a flower, what kind would you be?”

The senior thinks about it a bit. In all honestly, he doesn’t know because he’s more of a general plant person. But he tells him his favorite. “African violets.”

Ohm shakes his head. “You’d be a damn-delion.”

The senior feels himself cringe internally, not knowing how else to react. 

"Dandelions are weeds," he states.

"You might as well be because you get me feeling high," Ohm replies.

“Why do people say you’re such a good flirt?”

He dramatically puts his finger in front of King’s face, physically silencing him. “Not a good flirt. Just a flirt.”

King quirks an eyebrow up at his clarification. “That doesn’t sound any better.” 

Before their dialogue can continue, the food gratefully arrives. Throughout the meal, the younger talks about himself, balancing conversation quite well with questions for King about his interests, opinions, hobbies, etc. There’s no real harm in answering his questions, so that’s what he does. He picks up on a few details about Ohm, The younger doesn’t believe in academia or getting a degree, but his dissertation if he ever writes it is going to be about the physics of skateboarding on traditional skate park structures and how they can be idealized for safety. He rambles about possibly adding a social aspect to it, but seems unsure.

When he starts whining about one of King’s least favorite classes, he can’t help but laugh.

“Everyone says to avoid that prof,” he explains, waving his fork around almost poking the poor waiter trying to collect their empty plates, “But everyone thought it would be hilarious to not tell me and I suffered all semester. She’s just a terrible lecturer. Her exams should be fine.”

“I showed up hungover out of my mind, and got a low A, so I’d consider that a win.”

King blinks a few times. “I guess that’s one way of explaining it.”

When the check comes, King puts his card down at the same time Ohm does.

“I can pay for my food.”

The second-year pouts. “But you said you wanted me to pay for it.” He pushes the card out of the tray.

King sighs. “Like you said. I shouldn’t make you do that.” He drops the plastic back on top.

When the waiter passes, Ohm immediately slides King’s card out and hands him just his credit card. All the while, the senior stares daggers at him. Why can his eyes never threaten anyone?

“You’re welcome,” the younger smiles cheekily, sliding the card back to him.

** **** **  


When he gets home Ram is cooking some dinner. The junior looks at him, head cocked to the side confused.

“He’s kind of tolerable,” he admits. “Like I don’t completely hate him anymore.”

Ram's stare becomes more neutral, but the doubt lingers.

“Seriously. He isn’t that bad.”

King also admits to his friends that Ohm is tolerable, making him much less of an asshole than he thought he’d be. They seem to chorus in approval, proud that he was getting the attention he deserved.

“Give him a chance,” Boss nudges him on, “He seems to be not too bad of a person from what you said.”

“He hasn’t actually asked him out,” Bohn replies.

“But if he does,” Mek begins but is almost immediately interrupted.

“I think it’s a matter of when, not if,” Tee mulls for a moment, “But yes.”

“It’s only been three days,” Bohn observes, “King doesn’t just fall for a guy that quickly.”

“Ohm is a different breed,” Boss states, “Like I’ve seen him seduce a girl in days before.”

“Okay, so he’s a player,” Bohn summarizes. “And King should avoid him at all costs?”

“But what if King’s the one?” Everyone stares very confused at Tee. “The one that changes him.”

Mek slaps him over the head. “You’ve been reading way too many stereotypical romance novels lately.” Then he gets back to whatever he was trying to say earlier. So when,” he places excessive emphasis on the last word, “he does, will you say yes?”

All attention is now directed towards him. King hates how he feels under everyone’s gazes. “I don’t think he’s being serious. His jokes are stupid and barely acceptable. Who successfully flirts like that?”

And that’s what he tells Ram every time his face contorts in disgust whenever he spots Ohm’s name on his phone. Insisting that he was being unsuccessful calmed him a bit, but as King’s grimaces turned into smiles, he wasn’t sure if that was true anymore. Instead, he shifted, reapproaching it as Ohm just playing around and being a casual flirt, like him. Ram had stilled at the comparison but didn't say anything about it. So if he may possibly find the bad pick up lines sort of endearing, it was just him being dumb. 

They’re slated to meet up again next week to go shop for materials. 

“You do look more relaxed,” Ram observes when they’re in bed a few days later. They both face the ceiling while their backs rest comfortably against the mattress.

“Unlike somebody else,” King retorts, “Like seriously, maybe you should start skipping out on runs or waking up later, not helping me water plants, or cooking me breakfast.”

“I don’t think that’ll help. The routine is calming.”

“It sure doesn’t seem like it.” King props himself up on his elbow to look down at the younger. “You think you’re smooth, Cool Boy? I see how much caffeine you consume on top of morning cups of tea.”

“I think Monster compliments the herbal taste well,” Ram jokes with a smile. His teeth gleam in the dim moonlight, somewhat comforting the senior. “Seriously, you don’t need to worry about me.”

He can’t help but reach out and brush a lock of hair covering the younger’s eyes. “Shut up. My house, my rules.”

Ram falls quiet for a bit. King is about to lay back down when he sees the other’s gaze turn to him; he melts a little at the sight. 

“I will tell you. You’ll be the first person I tell.”

King’s mouth opens slightly at that. “You don’t need to promise me that. Like it’s totally fine if you go to someone else that you trust like closer friends or people. Confiding in me might seem a little forced and maybe you think I deserve to know because I’m housing you but please don’t think that.”

Ram just rolls his eyes.

The senior lets his hand reach over to Ram’s ear, letting his thumb rub the curve of it softly. “I hope I will be.”

** **** **  


King isn’t sure when Ram planned on telling him about what’s happened, but any more time he'd wanted to wait disappears that Thursday night. The senior can hear the yelling when he’s a few feet away from the door. His heart sinks when he recognizes the voice. Against his better judgment, he unlocks the door and slips into the foyer. 

“You think I’m okay?” and then slightly louder, “You think that I’m okay? I don’t know who fucking told you that, but no. I’m not. You think after everything you’ve done that it’d be sunshine and rainbows after not even a month?”

Ram hasn’t seen him yet. There’s nobody else in the space, just a phone held up to his ear. He’s dressed in his pajamas, hair slightly damp with a towel resting around his shoulders. His stance is defensive and face shadowed with anger. Glasses rest on his nose, although they’re displaced every few seconds with how Ram reaches up to rub his eyes. Tension emanates from his body, screaming at King to back off. Like his fight with Bohn.

“Come back?” The younger pauses. The way he laughs is all too similar, both in tone and emotion, to Duen’s drunkenly empty cackle. “Seriously? Thank god I’m not as much of a coward as you.”

The senior knows he has no right to eavesdrop on the situation, but he doesn’t know where else to go. He slowly sneaks past him and into the kitchen. Of course, the senior is completely unsuccessful. Ram grabs his arm, staring at him with pure surprise, diluting any anger that was once there. The phone is slowly pulled away from his ear.

“You’re just as bad for not telling her,” he hears in a tinny voice, “You can’t do this to your mother.”

King doesn’t try to wiggle out of the younger’s grip. His feet feel like they’re stuck to the ground.

“As if you’re any better,” Ram growls into the receiver, “Get your shit together and maybe I’ll consider going home.” He hangs up.

Investigating his features more closely, King can see that Ram’s more than just angry. An aura of definite negativity surrounds him, but it’s all too foggy. It’s making him unstable. His fingers wrap around his phone all too firmly, and his eyes shine glassily. 

Frustration. Anger. Sadness. Disappointment.

King’s arms automatically wrap around his torso while his head rests on his shoulder. 

“I don’t know what you’re going through,” he murmurs quietly, “But I’m here for you.”

There’s no reciprocation. If anything, his body seems to be leaning away from him, until he ultimately pushes him away. 

Ram is a puzzle King wants to solve, but every time he thinks he’s done, more pieces are thrown into the mix and it almost feels like he’s gone back to square one. (But it's good and honest work.)

“Eat.” He takes his wrist and pulls him to the kitchen counter. Everything seems slightly more normal until Ram sees what’s being taken out of the bag. “You haven’t had dinner yet,” King declares, handing him a spoon and opening the box, “You should eat something.”

Ram takes in a deep breath, his spoon moving towards the container. This is one of the very few loopholes he’s found to giving back to the most selfless person he knows, a small break from cooking. 

“Pin says hi by the way,” King mentions in hopes it’ll diffuse the tension. With the way Ram immediately freezes and fingers tighten around the utensil, he seems to have done the opposite. He takes the food and pours all of it in the trash can.

The senior is speechless. 

“It’s not a coincidence we haven’t been going lately,” King observes after staring at the younger’s evasive gaze and tense arms, “You’re avoiding her,” he concludes. The younger nods. His fists open and close, slowly but intensely. He analyzes the figure sitting back down in front of him, not wanting to push him. Their main source of communication is through eye contact although it isn’t the most consistent, and the lack thereof makes everything so much harder. King stares at him, not saying a word, but trying to translate as much comfort as possible to him. 

“Go cook something,” the senior quietly requests, although his tone harbors towards something closer to strong demand, “And I’ll get ready for bed.” And hopefully, it goes unspoken, then they can talk more if he wants. 

As he heads towards the bedroom, Ram asks a bit meekly, “Do you have anything due tomorrow?” 

Part of him wants to cheekily remind him of how responsible he is with his schoolwork but decides against it not wanting to demean the atmospheric tension. “No.”

“Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y e s we are finally getting the question answered of what is up with ram. i am hyped for some character depth and personal interpretations of some characters. hehehe
> 
> thank you again sosososo much for reading my story:
> 
>   
>  (Kim Youngbin of SF9) 
> 
> also i'm whip peD for hwiyoung's long hair and found this while looking for appreciative sf9 heart meems:
> 
> ALSO ALSO there is A [PLAYLIST](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/55Zbxwi9JUafehVKWFmvXE?si=_aNXV-8JTnm_g8XNOya_SA) FOR ALL THE SONGS THAT INSPIRED THE TITLES OF THIS STORY. (these are all title tracks but tbh i might just compile a bunch of songs that very much could qualify as ost's for this fic (omo [hello stranger by skz](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hKvGwo2p4q8) is that you?)


	14. maybe it hurts more because i thought it'd be easy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ram opens up about his feelings and king begins to accept his own more. however, a familiar face, at least for someone, arrives. 
> 
> or alternatively, it's time to insert the infidelity tag and realization of feelings if it isn't already there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's a lot of shameless fluff, dialogue, and it's really soft. until the end haha.
> 
> sorry for the late update; i've been working on something and i got lost in that mindspace, and it took me a bit to get back into this story's.
> 
> alsoalso here's a game for all you YA novel readers; spot the novel reference because it's there. glaringly so (or i'm just a superfan of this series l o l)

The atmosphere weighs down on King’s shoulders, filtering in emotions that feel similar to when he saw Ram in his bed that first time. Uneasiness coats his being. He’s trying to ground himself by trying to feel out the headboard pressing against his back, and the roughness of the well-worn flannel beneath his fingertips. The anxiety attempts to escape through flexing his toes back and forth near the end of the bed. 

Unluckily it’s therapeutic enough to aid his eyes shut. His head rests back against the headboard as he settles in the room’s silence. 

King’s not sure how long he’s fallen asleep, but when the bed sinks down next to him, the senior slowly peels his eyes open. 

“If you can’t stay up, it’s okay,” Ram murmurs.

He immediately straightens up at the offer. Nothing is going to stop him from trying to understand the younger. King summarizes that sentiment with a “No it’s fine.”

Ram nods and hands him a cup. The closer his hand gets, the more inviting the warmth becomes. But as much as he loves tea, he’s supposed to meet Ohm tomorrow and-

“Don’t worry,” the junior quietly ensures, “It’s lavender and chamomile.” Taking it as a green light, King quickly wraps his hands around it. He sniffs the tea before taking a small sip, smiling to himself at the smell. While drinking the warm leaf water, King quietly watches the younger settle into bed over the cup’s brim. He tucks his legs into the blankets and props the pillow against his back so his position matches King’s. The senior, out of instinct, reaches over to turn the lights off.

King hopes that maybe, this time, Ram will want to talk to him in his complete view. As content as he is with their conversations in the dark or without staring at each other’s faces, he’d enjoy looking Ram in the face when they talk. It’s somewhat possible after his eyes have adjusted to the darkness of the room, or whenever the moonlight hits parts of his face, but it’s not the complete 1080P color real-life experience.

But he’s never one to push the younger, and this time is no different. Ram gives him no reaction, only a look of expectation, convincing the senior to hit the lights. 

“Can I ask you something first?” Ram quietly pops his knuckles. He’s nervous. King wants to reach out and stop them.

“Go for it.”

“Why did you say ‘stop’ during the fight?”

King’s gaze shifts to Ram. 

He hates how tense the atmosphere is, but there’s (currently) no harm in the truth. “I just didn’t want either of you to get hurt,” he admits, “You’re my favorite first year, and Bohn’s my best friend.”

“That’s it?”

The question confuses King. “Would there be another reason?” 

“In my mind, maybe.” There’s a waiting silence between them. “But you have to promise not to get mad.”

And the senior really isn’t following where this is going. “Why would I be mad at you? How could I be mad at you?”

While the moon doesn’t highlight his face, King sees the younger’s fingers fidgeting. 

“I’m pretty sure it was all situational coincidence,” he begins, “Because Bohn punched me while I was staring at you and then proceeded to say something that I’m pretty sure was about you but also strongly lined up with why I’m not home right now and it was triggering,” Ram’s tone shifts into something more vulnerable, “Like at the time, my anger got the best of me because of this whole thing, and it was just a lot of pent up rage.”

Some of King’s consciousness lingers over the fact that even he had thought his ‘relationship’ was with him. But for the most part, he can’t stop focusing on his shift in demeanor. It makes King want to touch him even more, but he keeps telling himself it's an indulgence he shouldn’t take. 

“I’m not mad at you,” King explains, trying to ease the other’s worry, “ I think you explained your actions well enough.” His self-control dissolves and his fingers absentmindedly brush against the healing tissue above his eyebrow. “You just were trying to protect Duen.”

“Yeah, but,” he stops himself almost as if he doesn’t want to continue. But he does, “I thought you were a pawn in our weird back and forth.” King is still very lost; his movements stop. “This sounds so ridiculous now that I say it,” Ram laughs, “But I thought that you were getting close to me for Bohn’s sake. And that the fight would be when all things would,” the younger trails off, but doesn’t finish the thought, “so of course when you yelled ‘stop’ I might’ve actually stopped, and Bohn knowing this, took an opportunity.”

The senior lets his arms trail down his ear, rub it between his fingers, and then finally rest over his shoulder. And he giggles. “Bohn can be clever. That rosebush gift had everyone really impressed. We didn’t know he had it in him. But he’s all no thoughts head empty when it comes to people he despises, which includes you. It’s him trying to insist he doesn’t care, but it gets to the point where he doesn’t think enough. Everyone thought I was just tutoring you, not hanging out beyond that.” He omits the part about everyone recently starting to tease him about his feelings because Ram doesn’t need to know about that. “And it’d be weird for me to invite you into my apartment if that was the case,” he jokes.

“Exactly,” Ram breathes, “But the possibility of it was just. Uncomfortable. So at first, I thought it was terrible that you were the one to find me.” He takes King’s hand, comfortably lacing their fingers together. His heart starts beating way too rapidly, “But I can now confidently say that I’m grateful.”

With the way his face is heating up, King can’t help but be grateful for the darkness. “I’m glad,” is all he can muster, “Not mad. Oh, that was kind of a rhyme.” 

When Ram lightly squeezes his hand, he can’t help but squeeze back. “It was, sweetheart.”

To deflect, King just repeats what he says, in an exaggerated tone. He loves the other’s laughter. He can’t help but think he wants to bottle this unexpectedly sweet but lilting tone and get drunk on it every night.

He only wishes he could see how the corners of the younger’s eyes crinkled and bright brown irises shone.

Their hands sit between them, basking in their newfound silence. Ram sips on his tea and King idly circles his finger around the brim of his now empty mug. He doesn’t want to be the one to instigate the talking; Ram has to be the one to open up to him, but the way their conversation ended was all too light. It was too positive for whatever he was about to tell him.

The sound of his name pulls him back to reality. Ram shakes his cup in front of him and nods towards the kitchen with what King is pretty sure is a sweet smile. 

“Lazy,” he teases with a smiled his own, taking the cups, and unfortunately separating their hands.

** **** **  


King is barely able to maneuver his way back into the bedroom. He has to use his elbow to shut the lights off and foot to lightly push the door open. 

“I’m back,” he sings.

Ram takes the cups from his hands, waiting for him to take his seat back next to him. Once everything’s settled and atmosphere reset, the junior takes a breath.

“It’s a mess,” he summarizes.

He begins with Pin and the purple bracelet that she had. 

“I’d seen her post about her six month anniversary with her boyfriend a few days before. Underneath her long proclamation of love, was a picture of two hands intertwined. One was her with the bracelet, and the other had a watch, its face accented with the same tone of purple. I was so sure I’d seen it somewhere, but I couldn’t place it. But then.” The little huff he lets out sounds like a mix of a short cackle and a moment of defeat. “I found out the evening after I’d accompanied you home.” He bends forwards, casually stretching his limbs.

“The bus had stopped somewhere and I wouldn’t have given it a second thought until I heard a car honk. It sounded like that of my family car. We have this one brand of car that’s imported or something and its horn has a pitch that’s distinct from every other. Until that night, I thought it was a stupid fact to know,” he says a bit bitterly, “I looked around and saw someone waving at something by the car. It was Pin, passing down the sidewalk.”

Ram pauses, looking away from King and at the bathroom door. His tone becomes slightly more distant than it already, worryingly, was. “So of course I don’t immediately assume that’s my father because I’ve considered him a morally sound person, but that Pin has somehow landed a rich old man as a boyfriend.”

The implication of the situation is clear as day. King has no idea what to say. So the senior put his cup down and scooches a bit closer to the younger. 

Things start heading towards the unbelievable once he arrives home.

“I was talking with my mom in our dining room when my dad appeared. Upon seeing him, she immediately asked if he had forgotten something at home. She was holding his watch in her hand. It’s this old Rolex her parents had given him when they got married. He’s worn it every day since, but he’d been forgetting it recently. He acted as if nothing was wrong and happily greeted her with a hug. As he wrapped his arm around her, his sleeve slipped, just a little bit, to shine purple at the wrist. Nobody else seemed to notice.”

Of course, there’s no real evidence, but suspicion lingers in the atmosphere.

“He’d been leaving even before I went out to run,” he describes, “Claiming the company was having earlier meetings to accommodate with time zones or something. Again, I found it to be none of my business, but I suddenly had the idea of what if that wasn’t the case. It’s weird doubting someone you’ve trusted for essentially all your life.”

“So I decided to follow him,” his voice sinks an octave, “And big surprise, he hadn’t been going straight to the office. He was having breakfast with Pin. Which, no conclusions could’ve been made at that point. But he left his suit jacket in the car and rolled his shirt sleeves up to his elbows and he was just. Flaunting this fucking watch.” The junior’s grip tightens significantly around the cup. Afraid for its welfare, King gently pries it away from his hand. He tries to loosen the tension by brushing his thumb over the tops of his knuckles. “I couldn’t go to school like that, so when I came back from my ‘run’, I pretended to feel nauseous, and stayed in my room, pondering what the fuck to do.”

“I confronted him about it when he came back to work, but he vehemently denied everything. ‘I was just seeing her for breakfast’ and ‘I was just giving her a ride.’ Innocent activities, he claimed. But the amount of photo evidence I had said otherwise. And things started getting more complicated from there.”

King is pretty sure that’s all he’s going to narrate. The long pause after only confirms his thoughts. To fill the space, he asks some questions that have passed his mind.

“Why move the date of the fight up?”

Ram sighs and starts to tell the story of how he ended his professional boxing career. Although he’s heard the story before King looks as attentive as he can, trying not to expose Duen for his drunken anger. And he draws similarities of that situation, back to Duen.

“I was going to cancel the fight originally, but this just hit a nerve. I just wanted to protect him,” the junior says bittersweetly, “From something that could hurt him. And it was me projecting my sentiments about my mom. I couldn’t protect her, but I could protect Duen.”

“So when Bohn told you to pay attention to your relationships,” King begins.

“An all too big slap in the face. It felt like he was teasing me for being unable to see that my dad was cheating on my mom with my best friend.”

“He couldn’t have known,” he reasons.

Ram brings a hand to his forehead, rubbing it as if he has a headache. “I know, which is why I’m so mad at myself that I snapped like that.”

“Has it happened before?”

“Only the boxing thing.”

“And the phone call?”

Ram slumps down and starts gently tracing the outline of King’s hand. “He wanted to deny everything and let things fly under the radar for a bit, but I couldn’t let that happen. I was going to tell her, but then he pulled the ‘her being sad’ card, and it left me confused because I didn’t want my mom to be sad, but in my head, I knew to tell her was the right thing to do? My dad used my uncertainty to his advantage to confuse me. He’s threatening to cancel my tuition for school if I said anything, yet tried to encourage me to do so. So ultimately I did leave, without telling her, which,” he doesn’t complete his sentence. But King tries to interpret it anyway.

“You aren’t a coward for leaving,” he says, “If this man was emotionally manipulating me, I would dip too.” He brushes a few locks of his hair away, “Like who the fuck does he think he is for blaming you about his bad choices. Trust me; I can feel it. You’re doing your best. If you talk to your mom, I’m sure she’ll understand.”

Ram nods a little bit. King extends his arms out. After that rejection, he doesn’t know what works best for the younger. He, however, reaches over to pull King towards him. His nose digs comfortingly in the crook of his neck. The senior’s arms wrap securely around the junior’s neck, and his chin rests on the top of his head. 

“You’ll be okay,” he begins quite steadily. But then, understandably, the moisture starts to dampen his skin, and the image of Ram crying makes King emotional. Soon enough, tears prick his eyes too.

“You’ll be okay,” he repeats, this time much shakier. “I’m here. And I won’t be going anywhere.”

“He knows if I’m home, that I can be some kind of extra surface for him to spread accountability on. But I don’t want to hurt her like that, you know?”

King brushes a kiss to the top of his head. It’s something he remembers his mom doing, whenever he'd hurt himself. She said it'd make the pain go away. And now, all he wants is for the younger to not feel the amount of pain he was feeling. He wishes he could take it away so the younger has some room for joy. 

Nobody deserves this. Especially Ram.

** **** **  


It takes a while for Ram to calm down, and King holds him for most of that time. 

“I wish I could beat his face in,” he says, voicing his internal dialogue. His hands comb calmly through his hair, “He deserves it.”

Ram chuckles at this, head resting on King's shoulder. “I could have, but if I just left like that, I look like the bad guy.”

“Should’ve just slashed his tires and blamed it on the dogs or something.”

The junior pulls away to stare inquisitively at him. “That isn’t even possible.”

King waves his hand dismissively, “I doubt your dad would know that.” He checks his phone screen. It tells him that they’re nearing 2:00, having accidentally talked about shared pains, traumas, and sadness for so long.

“We should sleep,” he announces. Ram moves to get the cups. “Stop, we’ll do that in the morning.” King’s grip is firm on his wrist. “Let’s sleep.”

The two start tucking themselves beneath the blankets, but something seems to be preventing both of them from sleeping. King shuts his eyes, but the drowsiness won’t encompass him as it had before. About fifteen minutes later, Ram speaks up.

“King.”

His eyes open slightly. “Yes?

The bed shakes as Ram turns around. When King looks in his direction, they’re facing each other.

“Is it weird if I ask you to hold me for a little bit?” Ram asks quietly, “At least until I fall asleep.”

The senior stills at the question. He wants to and has for a long time. It’s going to be so intimate and all the butterflies will appear in his stomach. But also, the younger seems to still be frazzled from his retelling.

Who is he to deny the younger what he wants?

King moves towards Ram, rests an arm on his chest, and pulls himself closer to his body. He puts his head on the younger’s shoulder, able to hear the way his heart loudly thumps. The other’s left arm naturally circles around him, while his free hand gently rests over King's. The senior can feel his younger's body warmth even through the fabric of his t-shirt. 

“I should be in your position to hold you,” he jokes with a broad yawn.

“No, this is fine.” His grip tightens around him. “I’m glad someone’s getting tired.”

King groans a little in mock discontentment. His eyes have shut completely, pleasantly surprised at how comfortable the younger’s chest was as a pillow. He’s wanted to do this for so long, and now that he’s in the position, so close to each other, he can’t help but also think about how right and perfect it all feels. Ram’s now steady heartbeat, mixed with his warmth, the small circles being drawn on his back, and the light fingers tapping on the back of his hand. 

It’s just so nice.

“Don’t go out with Ohm tomorrow,” King barely hears in his content haze. He hums slightly in acknowledgment, digging his head deeper into Ram’s chest. “Stay here with me.”

If it means this then, okay. 

The senior doesn’t realize that’s what he told Ram until he wakes up the next morning to his phone alarm blaring at 8 AM. His eyes reluctantly peel open, just to be blinded by the sunlight. From what he can see, their legs have tangled between each other, but their position remains mostly the same. Ram is holding him securely, even the hand on his chest.

At least he doesn’t have a vice grip like Bohn. Just as he’s shut off the annoying sound, the body next to him stirs at his movements.

“Where are you going, sweetheart?” he asks in his morning voice. King stills at the tone, barely registering it as Ram, but able to acknowledge the want that forms in the pit of his stomach.

“Ohm, project,” he barely gets out, still taken aback by how attracted he is to the younger right now, although his hair is a bird's nest, and he’s staring at him eyes squinted probably unable to see him, that voice just negates it all. Although, he always thinks a frazzled Ram is kind of cute. So if anything, it’s some palatable duality.

The junior wraps his arms around him to pull him closer. He guides his head to rest on his chest again. “You said you’d stay if I held you like this.”

As soon as he feels the warm surface, King relaxes. “But the project,” he weakly protests.

“He has all of the CADs,” Ram replies, “It shouldn’t be a problem for him. Just tell him you’ll do some parts another time.”

King tries to roll over and get the phone from his nightstand, but Ram grabs his wrist, putting it back on his chest. “Later.”

“Cool Boy,” he whines, “I’m going to look like a shitty project partner.”

“He started it. Go back to sleep.” 

The senior murmurs something about traditional respect, but Ram just shushes him.

** **** **  


The next time they wake up, less than two hours later, it’s also not willingly. Someone is knocking at their door. 

“I think I have to get this,” he says somewhat apologetically. Ram nods and slowly untangles their limbs. 

He brushes his hair out to look somewhat presentable and heads out to open the door. When he looks out the peephole, he sees a somewhat recognizable guy.

So he opens the door.

“Morning,” he greets.

The guy looks unimpressed. “You’re King right?” He nods. “Ohm was wondering where you were.”

He sent someone to come looking for him because he didn’t show up at the workshop? “Who are you?”

He puts out a hand. “Way, Ohm’s brother.” King shakes it. Oh yeah. He lives on this floor. But still. Weird.

“I didn’t set an alarm,” he reasons. “I’ll text him right now.”

King rushes back into his room to grab his phone. However, two mugs and one senior are missing from the space. He quickly sends what Ram had suggested; a somewhat genuine apology, and proposing to finish it up next week. Ohm didn’t seem very happy with the proposal but agreed. 

Back in the living room, he sees Ram standing in the foyer, a now steaming mug in hand. 

“It’s been what? Almost a year?” Way exclaims, smile clear on his face but tone dripping with sarcasm, “How’ve you been?”

King circles around to stand carefully behind Ram. Said man hasn’t replied.

“Coach wishes you could’ve stayed, but mistakes,” he shrugs, “do happen.”

The senior rests an arm against Ram’s bicep, trying to calm him down, and stands in front of him like a protective barrier. “I let him know.”

After a socially acceptable amount of silence, where Way just stares at Ram incredulously, he decides enough is enough. “Well, it was nice meeting you!” And he abruptly shuts the door on his face.

He looks at Ram for an answer, but the younger has already walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all are amazing oml like I hadn't expected such a positive reaction to my request but W O W. I like being chaotic in comments; I'm a nice human and I 97/100 times will respond.
> 
> so, if you haven't noticed, i think i'm going to be twisting things into an arc that goes into its own direction, but tbh we'll probably round out back in time. hopefully. i meAn we're waiting a year until season two, so I might as well have my fun with it lol.
> 
> if that vibes well with y'all, and you've made it this far, I'd like to thank you again for spending time to read my work! I'm so grateful for all of you !!
> 
>   
>  (Kim Junkyu of Treasure)
> 
> p.s. If you haven't read six of crows (the book I referenced in this chapter very vague) go read! It's a great time I promise.


	15. shall i take out the pictures i drew in my head?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's kind of a confession. sort of. almost(?) and are they dating? sort of. almost (?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, what's up?
> 
> i wanna apologize for the late update ;-; it was a hectic weekend, filled with a lot of golf with your friends and small children haha. and then [treasure debuted](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JSAfPh1A25E) and my brain went big boom. 
> 
> anyways, this chapter is very nice and pleasant. and soft
> 
> also half the comments last chapter were literally fuck ohm and way, which i one hundo percent get, but i just found it amusing haha. 
> 
> their characters will be interesting in terms of dynamics, a little spice for the slow burn.

“We’re going somewhere,” he tells Ram the next evening.

King’s still a bit shaken up from the news, but he’s sure that their heart to heart has brought them closer. However, this exchange has been completely unbalanced. It seems like Ram's been opening up way more than King has. He isn’t a very secretive person, to begin with, and Ram is more closed off than most, but it’s still a bit unnerving for him. 

They don’t go out much together, except for school. So, of course, Ram looks a bit taken aback by the proposal. 

“Go get ready!” he exclaims, jokingly trying to push him out of the bed. When he throws the blanket up, it lands over King’s head, effectively blinding him. 

Ram laughs as he retreats into the bathroom.

** **** **  


About an hour later, the two of them arrive on King’s property. Ram’s eyebrow shoots up when they walk on.

“Not here,” he explains, and gestures for the younger to follow him through the empty house. After a few minutes, the sound of another pair of footsteps disappear. When he looks behind him, the junior is no longer there. Searching for Ram, King re-enters his home, just to find him standing behind the dining table. 

“Cool Boy,” he calls out. Said man immediately whips around, smiles slightly, and then immediately turns back to what he was looking at. On the small table, there’s a bunch of photographs of his family members. Ram’s holding a picture of King and his sister when they were younger, playing around in the backyard in surprisingly bright but fashionable clothes.

“I was a pretty cute kid,” King states, grinning. Ram nods and starts to point him out in other pictures. “And a bit round,” he laughs. The younger pulls his phone out.

“Are you going to take a picture?” he rambles, “Because I don’t know if-” his words quickly trail off.

 **Private Chat between cool boy and sweetheart**  
_19:48_

 **cool boy**  
You're still cute.  
And maybe a little round

Ram pokes his stomach lightly. Surprise, mixed with genuine embarrassment, causes a red warmth to fill the senior’s cheeks. “But that isn’t what I wanna show you,” he stutters out. He grabs the younger’s wrist, pulling him away from the photos and into the backyard that’s filled with foliage and rich plants. There’s everything from towering tall trees with wide, fan-like leaves, and smaller prickly cacti that litter the ground. 

He’s so used to the scenery that he forgets how overwhelming and awesome it can be. Ram is slowly pacing down the boardwalk, looking around at the tall leaves. 

It’s like they’re in their apartment again, but just a bigger, outdoor version of it. King stands patiently, watching the younger stare adoringly around him. Ram summarizes that his backyard is a concrete tennis court and that this is significantly better. He even goes so far as to ask what plants are what, whenever he passes them. At first, King texts him the explanation, but with how frequently it’s happening, he decides that walking at his pace would be a better way to spend his time. 

King likes watching Ram’s features relax. The way he smiles makes him look so much more like his age, scarily so. He knows that it’s not like those weeks of mental wear and tear will immediately disappear from his face, but whenever he smiles, the senior feels like they do, even if it’s just for a few seconds. The sparkle of his eyes reflects pure joy and curiosity much like a child’s. He has a very similar look when he’s around his dogs.

“You know,” King says, interrupting the flow of their plant fueled haze, “You could just ask me.”

Ram’s eyebrows furrow as he waves his phone up.

“Yeah, but,” his hands move like crab claws, “verbally.”

The younger’s head tilts, a bit confused. Instead of answering his question, he laces their fingers together and nods for the senior to take him wherever they want.

“Stubborn,” he mumbles to himself, but also doing as he was directed. 

Eventually, they reach the end of the boardwalk, where a gold-finished greenhouse sits at the water’s edge. The sun has long set, and the lights of the city mostly block out any stars that could be visible, but when they’re a few steps away, the structure immediately lights up, brightening the darkness.

“It’s like a giant version of those terrariums people put fairy lights in,” he muses, “but with actual plants.”

He guides the younger into the greenhouse, where they sit down on some of the cushions on the floor. Ram’s eyes trail around the area, obviously still awestruck. 

“So after my dog incident,” he vaguely mentions. It’s good enough for Ram to catch his drift, thankfully, so he won’t have to think too much about the memory. “I spent a lot of time alone in the hospital and therapy. I became really withdrawn for a while, so I was homeschooled for the rest of that school year. When I wasn’t cooped up in my room, I spent a lot of time out here,” his arms gesture around him, “It was nice to be around organisms that wouldn’t constantly ask me if I was okay, and would let me just ramble about pretty much anything. It became my safe space. I don’t know if it’s that enhanced oxygen level, or just because I’m such a plant parent, but it gradually became easier for me to study and read while surrounded by plants. Which is why my home looks exactly like this.” The younger nods, still looking around.

“And I want to extend that sentiment to you,” he concludes. His words seem to knock Ram out of his curiosity. “If you ever wanna just come over and calm yourself down here, you’re always welcome to do so. The keys are by the door and I’ll tell my parents and staff that you’re not trying to steal stuff from the house, and we should be fine.”

Ram’s looking down at a tall plant, crowned with small, drooping, indigo flowers that sits between them.

“That’s a bellflower,” he explains, trying to lighten up the atmosphere between them, “story has it that Venus, the goddess of love, had this mirror that made everyone see true beauty and appreciation in their reflection. One day she lost it, and a shepherd boy found it. Upon obtaining it, he immediately fell under the mirror’s spell. Cupid was urged to return his mother’s mirror, but the shepherd was completely unwilling to give it back. Finally, by shooting an arrow to his hand, Cupid was successful in freeing the mirror. However, the moment it was let go, it shattered to the grown. Wherever the shards landed, bellflowers began to grow," his finger runs lightly over one of the flower's petals, "they represent attractiveness and everlasting love but also gratitude and humility.”

Without thinking, King snaps one off the stem and shuffles forward to put it behind the younger’s ear. 

“This color suits you,” he says, “It complements the cool tone of your skin.”

Before the senior can even react, he’s being pulled closer to the younger, their noses barely brushing. Ram’s hand had found its way behind his neck. “Pretty,” he hears Ram murmur.

The senior’s breath hitches, pot gripped tightly in his hands. “I know,” he laughs a little bit, “It is a really pretty shade of purple.”

The younger, disregarding what he’d said, leans into his ear and whispers, “Was that a confession?”

He wishes he’d thought about that. Of course, that’s what he thought.

But should he tell him now? His body is both telling him to charge forward both confessing and letting their lips brush, but also to stop and keep thinking about the situation. Ram is a big flirt, right? And flowers are stupidly intimate. He could maybe imply an answer through that? Or was it even worse to admit it now?

Don’t mess it up, King. He then recalls another fact about bellflowers. No. He doesn’t have to say it.

“They also mean death,” he stutters out, “And can be found on graves.”

Ram doesn’t say anything but releases a puff of air in what King can only identify as amusement and exasperation. 

“Tell me when you’re ready,” he states before sitting back at a socially acceptable distance, taking the flower out behind his ear and twirling it mindlessly in his fingers.

** **** **  


**Private Chat between cool boy and sweetheart**  
_08:01_

 **cool boy**  
You’re stupid for working during a graveyard slot.

King, who wants to insist he’s fine, immediately yawns the moment his mouth opens, contradicting any defense he could’ve said.

After the Friday Fiasco, as he'd decided to call it, the senior pulled an all-nighter that Sunday to get his portion of the project done. They set a schedule, and the senior wanted to follow it.

It was supposed to be some two hours, quick and done work, just acrylic bending and metal folding. However, as he was starting some of the work, he’d looked at their design and realized there was a flaw in their design. The edges were sharp instead of rounded, as they should’ve been to accommodate for the bend radius of the acrylic, and it was just a lot. They could’ve maybe tried to include a plain in the inevitable space, and increase its support, but King knew it’d add unnecessary weight to the structure. He ended up texting Ohm frantically about it, saying that he’d probably need to redo his parts. Because it was nearly three in the morning, of course, he got no response, but King realizes it’s something they can work on together next week.

So he takes some time to redo all of the calculations and update their final CAD. Part of him is glad what they’d submitted was just a draft. Their professor would surely point it out as an issue, but he thinks it’s better to catch these mistakes earlier. That, with how difficult it was to bend the metal into a curve, gave him no time to sleep. 

When he paced off the bus, just as the sun peeked over the horizon, Ram had been returning from his run, and the sight of the senior sent him into overdrive. King’s honestly so grateful he has this caretaker of a junior living with him. He wonders if his presence has enabled him to push the boundaries of what he can do in terms of self-care, which would be, very unfortunate to say the least. 

“Nobody is ever there then,” he replies, “And he left me some packs of instant coffee.” The only good part was the few packs of instant coffee he found in the locker for his and Ohm’s belongings. The note attached to it read, “If you were coffee, you’d be espresso because you’re so fine.” 

He pulls out the one he had left. It still had the post-it note attached to it. His grip tightens around the packet, the caffeine that’ll energize him for the rest of the day. Maybe he should pour it in his tea thermos. Double the caffeine would be a definite win for him, right?

The moment King pulls the thermos out of the paper bag, Ram’s hand wraps around it, trying to pull it away. Amongst their scuffle, they try to stay as quiet as possible, not wanting to interrupt the serene atmosphere of minimal chatter and engine rumbles on the bus.

“Stop!” King pulls, “I just need some caffeine.” Ram reacts in a way that shows he finds his excuse absolutely absurd, that even he, although not a medical student, can tell that whatever he’s about to do is entirely idiotic. They play this tug of war game for a bit until the junior pulls a different trick. 

When Ram lets go of the thermos, the senior momentarily basks in his moment of glory. However, the junior immediately pulls the pack of coffee out of his hand, and for no better word, yeets, it out of the bus. 

Shocked, King looks back and forth, out the window, quickly rolling away from his savior, and back at the person he’d least expected to betray him. 

“You-” he stutters, feeling almost on the brink of tears, “that- but- coffee,” he whines forlornly. 

Ram pets his head, in an attempt to comfort him, but it’s nothing in comparison to what could have been alertness a la caffeine.

 **Private Chat between cool boy and sweetheart**  
_08:08_

 **cool boy**  
i’ll buy you some coffee on campus

King’s pout quickly morphs into a grin. “Okay,” he sings, closing his eyes and leaning back into the chair, his mind now at peace.

It isn’t surprising to him when he wakes up against Ram’s shoulder. The only other thing he spots on his phone is a message from the junior, who is now deeply engrossed in a news article.

 **Private Chat between cool boy and sweetheart**  
_08:09_

 **cool boy**  
that line was terrible

He rolls his eyes at the message.

_ 08:37 _

**sweetheart**  
i thought it was okay

Ram immediately replies to his text.

 **cool boy**  
sweetheart

 **sweetheart**  
cool boy  
are we just saying nicknames orrrrr

 **cool boy**  
Don’t be a little shit

The senior pokes him in the face to catch his attention and lets his tongue poke out teasingly. When Ram moves to flick his head which causes King to retreat slightly in fear, his hand quickly morphs back into a flat open palm, and he guides the King back to his shoulder, lightly playing with his hair.

 **cool boy**  
You’re friends with Bohn  
Therefore your judgment is garbage

King smiles to himself as the dejavu washes over him. “He’s really not all that bad once you get to know him,” he pauses to think for a moment, “Kind of like you.” Ram’s consequent reaction has King ready to laugh out his fatigue. 

“Okay, okay,” he relents, “I won’t compare you to Bohn anymore.”

Ram pats his cheek, an oddly comforting sign of assent. The arm around his shoulder doesn’t disappear when they walk off the bus, and King does nothing to stop him. It makes him feel giddy on the inside. That part of him that was once somewhat wary of what others would think has mostly disappeared. Without Ram and Bohn threatening to throw hands with each other, there’s no situational commitment to respect. Except being endlessly teased by his friends.

With how content and satisfied Ram looks (and not that he’s totally enjoying this situation; no King’s being totally selfless), the senior can’t help but think that’s completely worth it.

Upon walking into the cafe, a young woman immediately crosses into their path, a polaroid camera in her hand. “We’re having an event for couples. If you let me take a picture of you together, you get your drinks for free!”

King looks around, not being able to place the occasion of why they’d want to. It’s literally the middle of April, and there’s no real reason that they’d need to photograph a couple-

He and Ram aren’t a couple. 

But free drinks.

But personal integrity.

He looks up at Ram who’s already directing him to the wall she wants them to stand in front of. The younger pulls him closer and puts up a small peace sign. King, seeing that the decision’s already been made for him, mimics him and smiles. 

She hands them the developing photograph. “Just bring this to the front and you’re good.”

The line is a bit long, but it gives time for the polaroid to show itself completely. Ram immediately takes his phone out to take a picture of it.

“We look good,” King comments. Ram nods, fingers moving to the quiet music playing in the establishment.

When they finally reach the counter, the junior gives the guy at the register the picture.

“I thought you didn’t date first years,” an irritating voice comments offhandedly. Mild, the son of a bitch. Anger instinctively boils within him.

“And I thought you had some sense of human decency, but I guess constant rejection does things to a man.”

The second-year rolls his eyes. “Would you like ice with that?”

“No. Or do I have to explain what ‘no’ means?” Ram’s free arm reaches in front of him telling him to stop his berating.

To Mild’s credit, he doesn’t bother refuting him, just scoffs. His eyes betray him, revealing some kind of remorse. “Your drinks will be ready in a couple of minutes. Can I get the next customer please?”

Ram pulls them away to wait by the bar. Small circles on his scalp calm him down. 

“Remember that thing that happened, where Duen thought Bohn wasn’t being loyal to him?” the younger nods. “It was that guy. He hit on me last year, but I told him I didn’t date first years so after a while he moved onto Bohn, who although is a pretty flirty guy, did think he was completely straight until Duen. So when word got around he was seeing a man, he kept trying to get Bohn to do something with him and wouldn’t stop.” His hands tense up into small fists. The junior immediately reaches down to relax his grip.

“Electric chair,” Ram summarizes quietly, making King giggle.

** **** **  


“Where’d you get that?” Mek points to his half-full cup of cold brew doused in two extra espresso shots (one courtesy of a very guilty Mild). They’re sitting in a senior council meeting, trying to organize a volunteer trip for their major. Regardless of what they try to propose, it’s unlikely the trip won’t be planting trees in the countryside, which according to Tee would be a pleasant getaway. 

“There’s an event going on in the plaza. If couples take a picture for the cafe's photo wall, you get a free cup.” Everyone nods, understanding the situation. Until they realize that King is the most single person they know.

Then Bohn runs up, Duen in one hand and a drink in the other.

“Don’t you have class?” King asks the younger.

“You’re dating Ram!” Duen exclaims, completely ignoring him. (Seriously what’s with these underclassmen not respecting their elders?) 

King shakes his head adamantly. “We faked it for the free coffee.”

“But look?” It’s a picture of the polaroid. He hadn’t even realized he was holding the younger’s hand. (Domesticity is weird) “Ram wouldn’t say anything about it.”

“That’s pretty gay,” Boss points out. Everyone nods in agreement, except for King.

“We aren’t dating,” he repeats, slowly tearing his gaze away from the screen. “He owed me for throwing my instant coffee out the window.”

Duen’s brow furrows in confusion. “That seems so. Frazzled of him.”

The senior shrugs. “I got free coffee so I can’t really complain.” When nobody tries to bring up his relationship with Ram, he changes the conversation topic and asks Duen if he’d seen Mild.

“Ram told us how you reacted during lunch,” he says with a smile. “‘Do I have to explain what no means?’ Iconic. I kind of just decided giving him a constant death stare while holding Bohn’s hand was enough.” He looks over at Bohn who just shrugs.

“I ordered,” Duen clarifies, “So no interaction.”

All of the seniors nod approvingly. 

“He deserves a fucking slap to the face,” Tee exclaims.

Boss pats Mek’s arm excitedly. “We should go get coffee and then slap him.”

He stares down both endearingly and disbelievingly at his boyfriend. “One, I would love to not get banned from that cafe. They make really good pound cakes. And two, his shift is probably over. But free coffee sounds good after this.”

Mind, sitting at the front of the seniors claps loudly, capturing everyone’s attention. She lets Duen’s presence slide and proceeds with the meeting.

** **** **  


It’s finally gotten to the point in the quarter where everyone is coming back to find King for all of the physics help. Everyone needs to get their grades up to at least passing in order to go on this trip to plant trees, but it seems like half of his friends need the boost for Fluid. 

And when he gets home, Ram always has a few questions to ask, but because they’re significantly less complicated, the senior revels in the cool down. The younger also helps him a little bit with math, which is a definite plus. 

One evening, while King is trying to catch up with the episodes he’d missed (Ram still had not convinced him to move their screenings out of the bedroom even though King really did keep just falling asleep in bed), Ohm ends up texting him too, to both corroborate their project for a little bit, but more importantly, clarify whether or not he was dating his roommate. 

He tells him exactly what he’d told his friends. (Since when were people so nosey about others’ personal lives?) Moments later, he gets a message from Ram.

 **Private Chat between cool boy and sweetheart**  
_19:02_

 **cool boy**  
Maybe just tell him we’re actually dating so he gets off your back.

King looks up at the younger who’s watering the venus fly trap he’d given him once the first tiny mouth sprouted. He keeps it on the corner of the kitchen counter, where a few other of the younger’s trinkets like a small dog figurine and some hospital tags, sit.

“Lying never goes over well.”

Ram gestures towards himself in the apartment.

“Your circumstances are different,” he reasons, “Although I don’t know why you haven’t just told them you’re with me. I doubt Duen would have a problem with that.”

He smiles at the ground and sends him another message.

_ 19:05 _

**cool boy**  
He would want me to move in with him.  
But he has no room.  
Don’t wanna force him.

“Have you told them what’s going on at home, at least?”

Ram shakes his head. He moves towards the stove to cook them dinner, ending their conversation. He sighs, wanting to talk about it more, but settles for the drama in front of him.

King really thought progress had been made in their relationship, whatever it was. The way he’d talked to him makes the senior think that feelings may be mutual. The possibility of his hope being false screams warnings into his ear, but they’ve become significantly quieter.

About ten minutes before the episode concludes, his group chat blows up.

 **gofundme.com/get-king-a-boyfriend (5)**  
_19:39_

 **tee-knee**  
gUYS  
GUYS  
GUYS  
I JUST MADE  
The fattest DISCOVERY

 **hubby**  
What?  
Boss is taking a nap

 **bohned**  
What it it’s barely 7:30

 **hubby**  
And?  
He can sleep when he wants.

 **bohned**  
hE caN sLeEp wHen hE waNTS

 **tee-knee**  
y'all are dumb  
WYLAN CHANG GOES TO OUR SCHOOL!!1

 **plant baby**  
who?  
is this sports  
because i no sport

 **hubby**  
That’s pretty cool, actually.  
I forgot the season was over.  
I thought he’d stay in China.

 **bohned**  
same  
i watched so many of his videos to try and win against Ram  
what department is he in?

 **tee-knee**  
i guess not lololol  
I think acting or music

 **hubby**  
Gotta use that face.

 **bohned**  
^^^^

 **plant baby**  
eye don’t mean to interrupt  
But who this be

 **tee-knee**  
boxer

 **bohned**  
A really popular half Thai half Chinese boxer  
Fights for China  
Is very good

 **plant baby**  
huh  
kewl

Normally, the senior couldn't care less about sports, but after hearing about this athlete, his mind immediately wanders to Ram, and the potential success he could have had in Thailand. After shooting his message and pushing those thoughts away, King's eyes quickly flit up to the younger and he's both glad and relieved to be met with the back of his head. The laptop in front of him is already playing the next episode. He closes the window, opting for some mellow atmospheric music. Ram starts to sway to its beat. 

Ram fits in his lifestyle perfectly, and there’s no need to deny perfection. 

King isn’t frustrated by how slow the junior opens up; it’s more like his expectations aren’t lining up with reality. 

Patience, he tells himself. 

He doesn’t mind waiting. It’s only a little bit more time. 

All plants take time to grow. 

And so do people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for getting to the end of this!!
> 
> as you can see, the volunteer trip has been mentioned,,, I'm not sure how much longer this is going to go, but we're definitely passed the halfway point, probably even more. 
> 
> if you've stuck around this long to support me, I sincerely can't thank you enough.
> 
> to students in school,, i hope zoom treats you well, or if you're in person, that you maintain good ol safety regulations! if you aren't i hope you enjoy the rest of your break. 
> 
> with much love and much appreciation:
> 
> mini psa: make sure to support han seungwoo's (victon's leader and the beautiful man depicted above's) solo, [sacrifice](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QXeZUeD0Xo4) because it do slap ANDAND [ONF'S SUKHUMVIT SWIMMING](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6d33R5QPIXI) and an d [June's ANYWHERE](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NtD8TRiEDcc)


	16. please open up your heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King becomes self-aware, but his actions have a reason behind them. And Ram has more than one secret under his belt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hihi. i am definitely late to this party. i'm trying to set a good schedule, like drafting on sat and editing on sun so everything will be ready in the evening, but as a member of procrastination nation, that's all pushed a day forward so we get Monday updates. i'm sowwy ;-;
> 
> THANK YOU FOR OVER 4500 HITS, I ADORE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU!1!
> 
> school's starting back up for me soon, and with news coming out of some places reverting online from in class, am i sure glad i stayed home haha. for those of you who have to attend classes in person, or have chosen to. pls stay safe :>
> 
> i hope this pacing isn't too slow or too fast. my brain is planning out other projects to do and it do all blend l o l.

After one evening of surveying their parts and partially assembling them together, all while keeping on schedule, Ohm decides that he wants to take King home. The senior doesn’t really need the company, and all he wants to do is eat whatever was for dinner and collapse in bed without having to talk to anyone. 

He doesn’t want the company.

The younger insists, saying that he intends to go visit his brother anyways. At almost midnight? King sincerely doubts it, but gradually gives up, because he concludes none of the efforts are worth it. If he just sits next to him during the bus ride over, he can keep quiet, avoiding the conversation that his tired body and mind can definitely not hold. 

They sit underneath a faded plastic canopy, King mindlessly scrolling through his phone, and Ohm preparing to lay one on him. “Is this the bus stop?”

The senior rolls his eyes, knowing what’s coming. “Ohm, you know it is.”

“Because I’m here to pick you up.” King sighs, really ready to go home. Sure it’d been kind of tolerable, and maybe cute the first few times, but at this point it’s. It’s not fun. 

When the bus arrives, they sit in the front. The senior almost instinctively heads for his regular spot, but then remembers who his companion is. There’s no need to ruin the sanctity that is his and Ram’s seats (maybe that’s a bit strong of a word choice, but he’s sure that the younger would hate to know/hear that they were in the seat. Heck, it’s not even the same bus, and definitely a different driver, but it irks him).

“Are you sure that Ram Vera doesn’t like you?” Ohm asks. 

“What makes you say that?”

“He has Physics 2 with me, and every time we make eye contact, I feel like I should back off, as far as I can, but as carefully as possible. Like any sudden movements will sign my death warrant.”

“But what if he just doesn’t like you.”

Ohm laughs. “Oh I mean, there are definite reasons, some of which I already know. But if one of them is related to you,” he continues, poking the senior’s cheek, “I would like to know.”

King moves away from the unwelcome teasing. “We’re just roommates,” he insists, “It’s just awkward if we do like each other. In the beginning, things would be perfect, but the higher you are, the further you fall. If we break up, we’re fucked.” 

So yeah, King isn’t a complete idiot; he knows what Ram was insinuating at the greenhouse, and he really wants to reach out in return, maybe properly confess. But the circumstances are just shitty; Ram’s cohabitating with him because of internal family problems, and if they do start dating, he doesn’t want it to be a byproduct of the younger’s uncharacteristic emotional vulnerability. Sure, he’s probably overthinking this, but if Ram wants to flirt with him to get his daily fix of serotonin (King’s not gonna lie, it’s the same for him), there’s no way the senior is going to stop him. 

But there’s a line he doesn’t want to cross. At least for now.

“Really?” The younger quickly whips his phone out and takes a picture of them together. King instinctively stares at the screen but his fatigue doesn’t let him make the most pleasant expression. Before he can even react, he taps his screen a few times and shows it to King.

 **Private Chat between Ram Vera and Ohm Chulanot**  
_00:23_

 **Ohm Chulanot**  
937528.jpg  
got your mans :)))

Surprisingly, he sees that the message is read quickly, but there’s no bubble for a potential response.

“Don’t you think this is really stupid?” the senior verbalizes, tearing his gaze away from the screen.

Ohm shrugs. “He can’t do anything to me anyway.”

“What?”

King is ready to go on a long drawn explanation, detailing this man’s past accomplishments as a boxer and how he dislocated Bohn’s jaw, things that the younger probably are already aware of, just to explain that yes, he can definitely do something to him. 

“I’m not too worried about being beat to a pulp,” he concludes.

A slew of questions appears in King’s mind, but there’s no time to ask because they’ve arrived at their bus stop.

He picks up the mail on his way upstairs and starts cycling through the pieces mindlessly. The fact that there’s actually something there is a surprise in itself. Ram’s pretty on top of it, getting it when he comes back from his runs. But at least there’s some advantage to coming home this late. There’s important stuff such as the water and electricity bills, one of his plant magazines, and some more seeds. But he’s immediately taken aback when there’s a smooth cream folder made out to Ram Vera. With no return address.

When he turns back around, Ohm seems to be staring at the stack he’s carrying. “Can I help you?”

“Sorry, I was just wondering if there was a post office nearby.”

King sticks the ominous envelope behind some coupons. “I’m pretty sure they’re closed right now.”

“Because I’d ship us.”

The senior groans and walks off into the elevator, Ohm close behind him.

“I’ll walk you to your door,” the younger proposes. King stares at the numbers on the screen, hoping they’d reach 11 quickly enough. 

“I don’t know about that one.” 

“I wanna see how he reacts!” He’s practically bursting with excitement and curiosity

“You look way too excited for someone who might be facing imminent death.” The senior checks his phone to see nothing from Ram. Maybe he’s overreacting. The doors finally open, allowing him to head straight for his door. 

Mail stuck beneath his arm, King starts to unlock the door. Almost immediately, the door opens, revealing Ram with a steely expression.

“Hi Ram!” Ohm waves, all too happily. Said boy pulls King in by the strap of his shoulder bag.

“Oh,” he quickly says, startled by the gesture, “Night, Ohm.”

Once the door slams behind them, Ram looks him up and down, turns King around, and presumably does the same.

“I told you not to worry about him,” King says, facing the other again, “He’s a ballsy second year trying to get in my pants. Not all bad, like in a Bohn way, which I’m now realizing might not be the most comforting to you, but I’m trying to tell you he’s harmless. Just significantly more obnoxious and really bad at flirting.”

The younger pats his hair lightly, fiddling with strands King knows aren’t out of place.

“Maybe also lay off on the staring,” part of him wants to defend the younger, but his fatigue gets the best of him. Instead, he adds a bit cheekily, “I thought you only had eyes for me.” He cringes a bit at the line, but it’s worth the surprise that flickers in Ram’s eyes.

“There’s a letter for you somewhere in here. No return address, which is really weird.” He takes the mail out from under his arm and places it in the junior’s hands, immediately making a beeline towards the dining table. “Please tell me you have food,” he whines. When he spots the little food covering, he can’t help but smile to himself. “Perfect. I wanna do a food coma and pass out.”

Unfortunately, but understandably, Ram doesn’t sit with him. He stands behind him, squeezing his shoulder; moments later, a familiar softness presses against the side of his head. King’s stomach flutters, and he looks up, trying to bask in the intimacy, to catch a glimpse of him before he goes. But hands slip away from his shoulder, and lips off his temple.

Of course, he knows that the junior is in his space, in the apartment, but King can’t help but want him closer.

** **** **  


When the senior wakes up the next day, he goes through his morning routine. He brushes his teeth, washes his face, and gets dressed for the day. He and Ram water the plants together. When he tries to feed the venus fly trap on the kitchen counter, the junior pushes him away so he can do it himself. 

“It’s the same thing!” he exclaims. It earns him a spritz of water to the face.

They continue to eat breakfast together at the kitchen table, this morning some porridge with more than enough side dishes. Some are newly cooked, and others are leftovers from last night, but he’s impressed as always. 

He’s started to avoid using his phone, and instead conversing with Ram about whatever goes on in life. The younger is like an aural journal to him. King just talks about what he hears around campus, the feelings he’s felt (except for you know, the liking Ram thing because roommate complications will inevitably complicate things and that’s a situation he’d like to avoid as much as possible), and essentially anything. Ram soaks everything up, also no longer playing games in the morning. It’s a very peaceful, stable way to start his day, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“So there’s this boxer guy who’s new to our school, or I mean returning.” Ram’s expression changes slightly, a subtle raise of an eyebrow. “Yeah, I didn’t know about this either until my friends mentioned it. Some guy named Wylan Cheng?” And he’s back to impassive. “I was wondering if you knew who he was.”

There’s some hesitation, but he nods. He texts him essentially the same thing, that Cheng is some world-class hotshot boxer, but that’s it. Apparently there’s some technical stuff that he’d like to comment on, but it’s a matter of King probably not understanding, so he bypasses it. The senior attempts to convince him to go on because he finds himself generally interested in whatever Ram is into. Quickly, however, he allows himself to be distracted by the plant the younger sends to him, and very quickly he’s discussing the efficacy of snake plants.

(He should probably research the guy himself.)

When he goes into their bedroom to retrieve his phone and backpack, he realizes he’s the dumbest human. There’s a small 5 in the corner of his screen.

“Fuck,” he mutters. Apparently it’s loud enough for Ram to hear because the younger quickly circles behind him, resting a head on his shoulder. He shows his phone to him. “I didn’t charge it last night. And I don’t have a power bank.”

Ram says nothing, except for dragging him out of the building so that they can go to school. However, on the bus, he hands him a small black brick and a charging cord. He watches him intently, waiting for him to plug the device in, before draping his arm over his shoulder and patting his head. 

“Yeah, yeah,” King admits, “You’re so prepared and I wouldn’t know what to do without you.” 

Wordlessly, the younger hands him his phone and his earbuds.

“Eww, wires,” he jokes. Ram reaches over to his AirPods, opening the case, and revealing no attempt to link with his phone. Because, almost like his phone, they were dead.

He pulls up the playlist, which they’ve very well-titled Dog Plant, the cover art set not as an actual dog plant, but [a dog dressed up as a Chia Pet.](https://www.loveambie.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/Dog-Halloween-Chia-Pet-Costume-Dog-Halloween-Costumes.jpg) It was a small pet project (pun, somewhat intended) for the two of them, ever since they’d started living together. During more lazy days, King would walk over to Ram and show him a song, and if he liked it, they’d put it in the Dog Plant playlist, along with the other songs they’d exchanged on the bus. Much like many other parts of their lives, their music tastes have become intertwined, the lines seriously blurring between what was his and what was the junior’s.

Dog Plant, something that is undeniably theirs, sings to them as they travel to campus. King stays awake for the most part, enjoying how Ram pats his shoulder to the beat, and the comfortable atmosphere in between them.

** **** **  


Later that day, such serenity has worn off when King and his friends linger in the back of the crowd surrounding their professor’s office. He’s finally released their Fluid Dynamic exam scores. It’s like karma graced him with the gift that was his math teacher, and the absolute bane of a physics professor. Anticipation reeks from every students’ pores, except for King and Mind. When their eyes coincidentally meet, there’s a mutual nod of respect.

“According to the emails, the average before the curve was 58%,” Mek tells Boss, but loud enough for Bohn and Tee to hear, “So the curve should be massive.” It’s a weak attempt to placate the others if their worried expressions say anything. 

“And we still have the final,” King adds.

After what feels like forever, the crowd rumbles, and with a few hops, he spots the professor coming out of the office with a few papers in his hand. Sure, the grades will be up online by tomorrow, but curiosity tends to smoothen out everyone’s brains and destroy any remnants of patience that these students, King included, might have had before. 

“Do you think you’ll still outscore Mind?” Bohn asks behind him.

After the circumstances in which he took his exam? He isn’t sure. But in their academic careers, he’s scored higher than her in two other exams, but also drawn for five, so losing his lead by one doesn’t seem all that bad.

The students slowly crowd towards the front, but the sounds emitted seem to be a pretty even mix of groans and cheers. There are a few gasps in the mix, and King can hear his name muttered a few times. Part of him wonders why, but he quickly tunes them out in favor of his friends’ antics.

Boss has his face dug into Mek’s shoulder, and Bohn’s comically crossing his fingers and linking his arm with Tee who has his hands pressed in a praying pose, although King is pretty sure he’s an atheist. He guides the shuffling figures forward.

“Nice,” Mek murmurs to himself when they’re close enough. King spots his 87 and nods in agreement. 

“And let’s look at y’all,” King begins, surveying the papers. He spots Mind’s 95, and he’s hoping there’s a slight chance he’s done better than that. But from what it seems, he’ll have to be at the front and looking at a bottom row to see. 

“Bohn passed with a 77,” he observes, “Tee slid by with a 73, and Boss.” He can’t spot the number.

“Oh lol,” said boy laughs, “69.”

They’re a few steps away from the scores, but his best friend’s height seems to have given him a quick glimpse. “King,” Bohn points out next to him, “You got a 90.”

Everyone stares at him like they’re expecting him to react some kind of way, and honestly, if there was no good reason like his brain hadn’t been riddled with worry for Ram, then yeah he’d probably stare very confusedly at the score and maybe stand in line with the about twenty other students to talk to the professor.

It’s his overachieving self to explain it best. For the past three and a half years, maintaining that 4.0 has been a breeze, and seeing a grade that could tinge that perfection would probably surprise anyone next to him.

He stares at the board, finds his ID number, and sees that he did, indeed, get a 90. “Okay,” he shrugs, “Wanna go get some lunch after this?”

“Dude,” Bohn holds him by the shoulders and stares him down. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Their freshman year, he’d similarly received a 91, but he’d immediately stormed into the TA’s office and tried to explain his way into the free-response question’s points, to which she explained she wasn’t paid enough to look beyond the answer key. He then reported her behavior to the professor, causing him to reassess her competency and for him to grade it himself, he shot up to a 98. It would be the first time he beat Mind and the beginning of their subtle, but innocent rivalry. 

“Yeah,” King replies, pulling himself out of the elder’s grip, “I blanked out a little and it took my attention away from the test for a bit. Not a big deal. As I said, we still have the final.”

They walk away from the office together, except for Boss and Mek, who joined the people outside their professor’s office in hopes of scraping a singular point for that passing grade.

“We’ll join you later,” Mek exclaims, holding Boss close to him, who looks like he couldn’t give a single fuck about his 69, and rather quite enjoys the number’s humor, “I want to try and graduate with my boyfriend.”

** **** **  


As they walk, Bohn and Tee invite their boyfriends, and King considers asking Ram if he’s hungry, but then asks himself really, why the hell would he even do that? 

Tee tells them there’s a great street food cart outside of campus he wants to show them, and King immediately thinks it might be Pin’s. So he grills him about the details, like who runs it, where it is, the kind of food they sell, etc. Based on the street they’re on, he quickly concludes that no, no it’s not hers and that there isn’t anything to be worried about. 

His invitation may have actually had some merit because Tee drags Ram with him.

“Hello,” he greets as if he wasn’t living with him, nor they’d seen each other this morning at all, or woken up in the same bed (although not cuddling, that hadn’t happened since Ram’s expose). They acknowledge each other like strangers.

“We both just got out of class,” Phu spits out. “I hate my professor.” Tee immediately pulls him into a hug.

“Lab?” King asks. Ram nods. “The ones where you gotta assemble the pieces together?”

“Glorified Legos,” the other first-year summarizes. With one, pointed look from his friend, he rephrases himself, saying, “Okay they’re these big fucking metal projects that I hate doing, but Ram tends to do all the work for me because every time I touch a bolt, that shit disappears. And I can’t even do the write-ups. He does all the math.”

“Save some work for your friend,” King jokes with a nudge. Ram stares disinterestedly at his phone, unaffected. He’s texting someone, more specifically, King.

 **Private Chat between cool boy and sweetheart**  
_13:04_

 **cool boy**  
You know how bad he is.  
Like I get him to sort the nuts and bolts into separate piles.

The senior rolls his eyes. He blesses his fast thumbs.

 **sweetheart**  
and somehow he loses one every time without fail  
how could i not lol  
it’s not like you don’t have a rant about it every tuesday.

 **cool boy**  
Wow.  
Am I really that predictable?

 **sweetheart**  
of course cool boy

“I can’t believe Ram didn’t try to destroy you or something,” Duen observes. 

King’s head cocks to one side, not sure how to interpret the comment.

“Like he would’ve immediately shot me daggers if I pushed him like that, but he kinda just carried on texting.”

The senior’s eyes widen inquisitively at the statement. “Really?” 

Phu giggles to himself. “It’s worse with the others. It literally happened yesterday with TingTing, she was teasing him about something, hit him on the shoulder a few times, and Ram let her tumble off the bench. Tang literally was about to throw hands with Ram.”

“But that’s a stupid mistake,” King fills in, staring pointedly at Bohn, “And nobody should do that.” Beneath the table, the junior pats his knee approvingly. His hand lingers to King’s satisfaction.

The fight has become somewhat more of an inside joke for the two friend groups, to reinforce Ram’s strength as a fighter, and Duen’s potential to have common sense. Finally, and more, unfortunately, Bohn’s creativity as an annoying human. Any hard feelings have for the most part dissipated, except for those between Ram and Bohn. There is blatant mistrust between the two of them. Ram doesn’t want his friend to be hurt, and King thinks the sentiment is returned. It could just be him projecting, but he’s pretty sure Bohn’s still had the same mindset ever since he and Ram had first, formally met each other. 

His phone vibrates beneath his hand.

 **gofundme.com/get-king-a-boyfriend (5)**  
_13:29_

 **wifey**  
oui saw boxer man on our way over!!!

 **hubby**  
But seriously.  
His visuals?  
Amazing in person.  
Even behind a mask.

 **plant baby**  
i used to think i was the gayest one here

 **hubby**  
You are.  
But I can appreciate a nice face.  
Half a face (?)

He’s about to ask about just how attractive he is, but Ram lets out a breathy laugh next to him. His finger points out the chat’s name. 

“I’m pretty sure they’re still on the Ohm trend,” he admits, shutting him up.

 **gofundme.com/get-king-a-boyfriend (5)**  
_13:32_

 **wifey**  
I don’t say it often, but same

 **tee-knee**  
Pictures  
Pictures  
Pictures

 **bohned**  
P ic turEs 

**hubby**  
[9247830.jpg ](https://i.pinimg.com/736x/7e/fe/cb/7efecbdf241996872c4d84540fc9686c.jpg)  
Only got the one  
But hey  
I think it’s pretty good

 **plant baby**  
Sir this is half a face  
What do you expect me to do with this

 **hubby**  
Damn okay  
Could’ve said he had nice eyes or something  
H E R E  
[8392572.jpg](https://external-preview.redd.it/6O8kOK-lh4brY4pWCQ7J9OVDojK_HiJ3TLKDqmLvaAQ.jpg?auto=webp&s=ebc76d76e6b3243c42206bc014faa557ebdcfcb0)

 **plant baby**  
oh wow

Do his eyes automatically trail down to the person's figure, more specifically the ink on his ribcage? Admittedly, yes. However, any fantasies that could play out in his head self-destruct in a matter of seconds.

“Oh wow,” he hears Duen say from across the table, “Boxing exists.”

 **wifey**  
YOU HAVE THAT SAVED ON YOUR PHONE  
DONT TAINT THE CHAT

 **tee-knee**  
I think autocorrect changed taint to bless

Mek continues on about the boxer’s face, rebutting his boyfriend. But that isn’t why King had reacted the way he had. 

Well sort of. He knows that icy grey hair, and that bored but somehow intrigued stare. It morphed into a childish grin the moment he saw Ram last week.

That’s Way. Like his neighbor Way. Ohm’s brother, Way.

When he turns to look at Ram, the younger actually meets his eyes this time.

 **Private Chat between cool boy and sweetheart**  
_13:33_

 **cool boy**  
Old training partner.

 **sweetheart**  
there’s more  
the way you reacted when he appeared  
there’s def more.

Ram stares at him, exasperation tinging his pupils, but he nods in concession.

 **cool boy**  
When we get home.

 **sweetheart**  
on the bus ride home  
is this another thing your friends don’t know about?

 **cool boy**  
Yes and no  
Fine, on the bus ride home

King smiles brightly at him, earning himself another pat to his knee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> h a ha i made jokes that would make no sense in thai, but i love interchangeably using oui for we and eye for i in text speech
> 
> in other news, my kpop side is showing. way is lucas wong of sm ent (like okay he's in so many groups idek what to say at this point)
> 
> yes we stan personal awareness in this household, but also not everything is as easy it as it could be. and that's my weak metaphor for life.
> 
> okay so smol announcement: i has [a tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hxt-pxckets) out there.
> 
> tbh, let me know what works best for yall because i know i promised plant pictures but my brain cannot compute, and i'm not sure how to share those. yall would witness an all too high concentration of kpop shit posts, writing struggles, and probably some bl stuff (still2gether did come out, are my expectations high after the series' original conclusion (NOT AT ALL) but it do become a feeding ground for fanfics)
> 
> okay that be it for me haha. i know i say this every time, but thank you so much for taking the time to read my work!! comments do be very nice an d encouragingg:
> 
>   
>  (Jay Park of I-LAND (currently competing))
> 
> slight update: twitter and tumblr overwhelm me like i'm just there looking for memes but there's such an expanse (probs feels like a lot more because of dark mode) and idk how to navigate. pls help a smol lost author


	17. the more forwards, the brighter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King's workload really kicks up, a possible slipup, and Way, although not directly, doesn't make his life any easier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did i edit every single chapter title to lyrics of the related song, instead of vague titles that don't really pertain to the chapter? yes, yes i did.
> 
> on a more serious note: please take some time to sign [ this petition](http://chng.it/7nxRkhYH5Z) to bring justice to Jacob Blake. And if you can, **DO NOT DONATE TO CHANGE.ORG** to support his family but rather [this gofundme](https://www.gofundme.com/f/justiceforjacobblake).

In the next few weeks before their big trip, there’s way too much for King to accomplish, even for his responsible self. Ohm and he have been collaborating quite smoothly. He learns to drink all of the instant coffee before going home, and instead of taking the sticky notes, he writes small scores on the back of them. The locker they share has a splattering of neon colors on the inside of the locker.

“He has a 5/10 average,” he tells Ram who continues to be skeptical about the second year, “Stop worrying.”

And then, there’s the campaign they have to do for incoming first years, like show off what’s so good about their major, why students should attend their school, etc. Mind thought it was a good idea to give the boys, or better said the rest of the council, free reign in their concepts. They made good progress, but the moment King started dipping early to work on his class project, things seemed to fall into shambles.

“Mind is going to destroy all of us,” Mek says, gesturing to the posters they have yet to finish.

Bohn immediately lights up and takes his phone out. “Let’s take a really hot group picture and post it to Facebook.”

“You,” KIng barely breathes through his fit of laughter. He almost loses his balance, but Ram, who was standing behind him, easily steadies him, “Think we should objectify ourselves to get people’s attention and free labor.”

His best friend blinks blankly at him. “Well, if you put it that way,” he trails off, a bit guiltily. 

“That’s literally what it is,” he retorts.

Mek raises his hand slightly. “But I think it’s worth a try.”

“What?” He can’t believe what he’s hearing.

Tee nods next to him. “I think we are that desperate.” He gestures to the unpainted papers, the lack of shape to their large sign, and most importantly, the lack of work going on. 

“If we just all put our bodies to it-”

“That’s what we’re doing right now,” Boss claps his hands excitedly. “I like this more than hunching over and painting lines.” He mimics the movements, using a dry brush to tickle his boyfriend’s nose. 

King can feel everyone’s egos being fed, and the testosterone is intoxicating. When he looks at Ram, he merely shrugs-- he actually doesn’t care?

“I’ll take the picture,” he sighs as he puts his hand out for the camera.

“NOPE!” A loud voice exclaims. TingTing, with Tang and Duen in tow, appears from behind, she’s waving her phone up excitedly. “I was called for this.”

“This is so stupid and outdated,” he insists, trying to talk everyone down. However, they’re all too busy stripping. “I’m not doing it,” he announces. King throws his hands up and walks to where Duen is standing. 

TingTing has her hands over her face, but in that way that permits a bit of a view between her fingers. Tang hides her view completely. “I’ll take the picture,” he mutters, prying the phone out of her hand.

“There’s definitely more people like her,” Duen reassures, “This will work.”

The senior hums, knowing that the younger is right, but completely hating the basis of it. He watches Tang shift everyone in the most aesthetically pleasing order. Phu watches his boyfriend almost hungrily. Duen is less obvious, but there’s a definite want behind his gaze. 

“P’King,” the man behind the camera says. The use of the honorific is startling, but it’s not comforting in the least, “Do you mind joining the rest of the seniors? The picture feels really empty with just four members.”

His mouth opens slightly. “Are you sure that’s necessary? I think this looks perfectly fine with just the four of them. You can see the details of all of their abs. Isn’t that the important part?” He laughs a bit nervously.

Before Tang can say anything else, there are two flashes of white in the picture.

“Variety,” Ram states, already unbuttoning his shirt. Phu, while doing the same, has walked up to his boyfriend and kissed him square on the lips. When they pull away, they’re eying each other too intensely to be public.

The gay panic encompasses Bohn’s face. “Okay, please hurry up. I think they’re eye-fucking each other and I need it to stop.” Tang laughs at that but does speed up his process.

“So much gay tension,” TingTing observes in awe. Duen nods, eyes not leaving his boyfriend.

King makes the mistake of looking over to Ram. Sure, the butterflies flutter less when he sees the younger shirtless, the phenomenon having become much more common, but they still exist and turn on the attraction he tries so hard to muffle. (On the surface, it’s the tattoos, and the definition of his abs, and his strong chest, and a whole slew of attractive physical features. But all of that inherent attraction is amplified by the person King knows Ram as, and sometimes doesn’t know.)

The pictures do work, to his personal disappointment, but they also accomplish a lot more work then they would have without any volunteers. He takes mental note to bring up the lack of turnout in the next meeting so they won’t have to use such primitive methods in the future.

And finally, his and Ram’s last-minute addition to the charity fashion show that the president holds at the school. Each department wears clothes given to the school, a display of progressivity and a positive reputation. King, while a social being, was never one for performance, even if it was just walking down a long path. All five spots were filled pretty quickly. Bohn, the star of the department was a given. Same for Ohm. Mind had been a blatant surprise, but then again, King suspects she’d been forced into the position for diversity’s sake. 

But the last two were the issue. One of the models in their department dropped out after running a bunch of laps around a track or something and nearly passing out of overexertion, catching a cold in the process. Then his boyfriend (Kongpob would keen at the label) pulled out too to take care of him. He’d written Ram and himself in as joke replacements, having expelled all of his extroversion by that point, but it looks like that’ll be their plans this weekend. 

Ram had been taken aback by the news but didn’t try to get out of it. However, he doesn’t know how to walk down a runway; like he’s so bad it’s terrifying. 

With all of that, King wants to pass out in his room and maybe watch that drama with Ram. Or even, if his brain will permit, they can cuddle because the senior thinks he’s in such desperate need for a hug. 

But fate has other plans. 

Rumor finally got out that Way lived in his apartment building, to the senior’s great disdain. He now knows he should never doubt the power of a fandom; within hours too many stans had organized a stakeout to wait for his return. Adoration and praise coated every being; they wore gaudy shirts plastered with his face, banners holding his name, and posters confessing their undying love for him. 

Even if he can’t go to sleep with all of the work he has to do (his pre-done week of work has dwindled to only a three-day head start), King wants to go home and suffer in the comforts of his own home. 

But Bohn, Tee, and Mek acting no differently from the rest of the crowd wait for the boxer to return. Duen and Phu immediately convinced TingTing their situation was worth it from a single showing of his face. (King can’t really judge them for it. A few years back, he’d taken Bohn with him to wait in line for a couple of hours so he could take a few pictures of a plant that bloomed inconsistently but was considered historical whenever it happened. It was totally worth it.)

On the other hand, Tang and Boss look completely irritated, probably not at all seeing their significant others (completely obvious person of interest, for the freshman) fawn over a celebrity. 

And Ram was Ram; still faced and unbothered. Except, King knows how the situation uncomfortably churns his insides. The path he took to pain wasn’t the most innocent.

It would be weird to watch one of your closest friends move up so quickly and smoothly to the top, just to leave you in the dust. Sure, flying under the radar and taking the discrimination could be presented as complying to the system, or maybe King is too set in his morals because it feels so wrong. 

They were partners for years, but as they grew older, Way came to think that reputation superseded friendship. China offered him a spot on their team, and he could be in the ring, under the bright lights, in a year less than what Thailand was offering. If he was leaving, why not report the team? 

“I told him I could take Australia’s offer, and then we’d be home free,” Ram said on the bus. His thumb traced imaginary lines up and down King’s fingers, tickling him lightly. His gaze wouldn’t meet King’s, instead fixated on the senior’s hand in his. “But he said no because he didn’t want to be known as a whistleblower in the industry, to put a stamp of mistrust on his reputation. He kept listing the possibilities of his coach not trusting him and the possibilities of disobedience and rebellion, which I guess was fair.” But of course. It still felt wrong. 

As they were talking last night, a part of him wondered, how did the rest of his friend group not know that he was friends with such a popular public figure, if Ram spoke so intimately of Way? But then, King thinks about his current situation, how the younger still hasn’t disclosed his true location, nor the circumstances of his move, and he realizes they’re probably parts of his life he thinks don’t need to overlap. (A bit ironic, in the senior’s situation then.)

King feels Boss lean into his ear. The sudden and unwelcome warmth takes his attention. “Can we wait in your room?” he whispers.

“Please!” Tang yells. It could’ve been loud, if there weren’t chants going on in the background, almost completely muffling his cries for help, “I can’t handle this.”

He turns to Ram and nods towards the building. The younger turns around, already heading towards the lobby.

He’s the first to enter, King close behind. However, the other two are stopped at the door. “What’s wrong?” he asks the security guard.

The poor man looks exhausted out of his mind. “Can’t let non-residents in, unless they’re on Wylan Chang’s pre-approved list of guests, or if it’s an emergency.” 

King vaguely remembers reading an email about recording the names of residents, with pictures, onto a spreadsheet. Getting a picture of the younger had been a struggle, but after threatening to use his admittedly very embarrassing ID picture, Ram had relented. (He thinks he did a pretty good job).

“But, Ram,” Boss stutters out, pointing at the man who’s standing in the air-conditioned building.

The security guard follows the pointed figure. “He lives here,” he states simply.

Shock immediately appears on Boss and Tang’s faces. King shoots some finger guns and runs away from their inciting bafflement. Moments later, he catches up with the younger, who’s waiting for the elevator to arrive.

“I don’t think we can hide that we live together anymore,” he says. Ram looks at him confusedly. The senior explains the newly established rule. Surprisingly, his expression doesn’t change much. He shrugs and enters the elevator.

And now, King has no idea what to think. He’d been so meticulous in not letting others know, but now, this slight slip up didn’t even bother him.

The distress and confusion must have been clear on his face because Ram wraps an arm around his shoulders in a small embrace. He’s reaching for his phone, but the junior sticks his phone in his face, displaying the messages he’s sent him.

 **Private Chat between cool boy and sweetheart**  
_18:47_

 **cool boy**  
I’ll explain everything when they ask.  
Don’t worry too much about it.

** **** **  


King collapses on the couch, trying to ignore the incessant buzzing coming from his phone. His back completely hates the surface, yearning for the mattress in the next room over, but as much better as that would be, King doesn’t feel like moving, and he’s too prideful to ask Ram to carry him.

Temporary relief comes in the form of [a song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WTPCOWMXtBo). Part of him wishes he could actually do a 180 from this situation, but hiding out in his room seems like the wrong decision.

“What’s up?” he asks his sister.

“You free Friday?” The day before the runway started? 

“Yeah.” Something tells him that this isn’t going to be something super enjoyable.

“You gotta watch the boys for me. I got a summons for jury duty, and Man is working all day.” 

King groans. That was his rest day out the window. “Familial obligation,” he relents.

“I’m glad you understand.” After giving him the details, she tries to maintain a conversation. In his haze of fatigue, he’s barely able to respond, and it seems to be enough for his sister to stop talking as well. 

“Take care of yourself, dummy,” she says endearingly, before finally wishing him goodbye.

The moment he hangs up, King sees the few requests for food and a power bank before Boss had unceremoniously announced his newfound discovery to the others. He didn’t want to deal with the stream of questions, especially while so tired. It’s too loud, that in their typically already quiet space, the messages are an unwelcome sound, so he throws the phone to the other end of the couch.

He can’t take it any longer. 

“Cool Boy,” he whines from his spot. King has to tell him about the kids at some point. He reluctantly moves his arm away from his face to look for his roommate. 

The said person already has a bundle of bananas, some mostly abandoned protein bars, and a bag of chips in his hands, all while dragging whatever’s left of that case of water out of the closet. Taking a closer look at him, King notices that he’s already changed out of his uniform and done away with his contacts. As he bends down, his glasses threaten to fall down the bridge of his nose. 

The senior, forcing away his own fatigue, rushes up to help. “Didn’t think you’d be going back in there.” His brain is running on fumes, and it’s the weakest joke he’s probably said, based on the other’s reaction. Ram has the decency to cock an eyebrow up in acknowledgement but places more attention on balancing the contents in his hands. 

The senior pushes the glasses up once he’s standing straight and collects everything but the water, giving Ram time to lift it up properly. Their fingers collide “I’m tired,” he reasons.

The junior brings his arms under King’s and motions towards the bedroom. As they move up, King shifts away and places the younger’s cellphone there.

“Can’t do that to you,” he says with a tired smile, already putting on his slides. “It isn’t fair to you. And I still have your power bank in my bag.” His shoulders shake for emphasis. (He likes to think he’s the reason for the younger’s smile.)

As they head back down, King turns to the younger’s direction. When their eyes meet, he grins a bit and starts to tell him about the babysitting job he’ll be doing on Friday. Ram seems very iffy about the situation, but nods. 

“I’ll be out most of the day if you don’t like children or something. It’s not an uncommon phenomenon.”

The junior nods slightly, but that’s as much as he gives. 

As he turns away from him, King notices something different about Ram’s phone case. There’s a small splash of purple against the usually grey color. 

He shuffles closer to him and realizes it’s a dried flower. 

A dried bellflower.

It has to be that one. Where else would he have gotten another? They aren’t really found in flower shops, at least as far as he’s seen. 

In an attempt to confirm his thoughts, he looks back up at the younger. 

Ram is staring back at him. Speechless, King points to his chest, signaling the junior to nod. Suddenly, he bends down leaving a brief kiss to the top of his head. And before the senior can completely register what’s happening, the doors of the elevator are opening, allowing the screams and chants to permeate the previously quiet atmosphere, permitting chaos to dilute their peace.

** **** **  


They tag team it, King weaving through the crowd, giving his friends as much as he can, as effectively as he can, while Ram guards the food at the security station. During one trip back out, he sees the younger slip the security guard some chips and water. 

Every time he’s back with his friends, Duen starts berating him with questions, asking him if he knew about Ram and that he lived here, and for how long. There’s not enough time for him to give a complete response, just a few seconds of denial before he’s going back out to retrieve some more bananas or water bottles. However, it’s once he starts giving him a long drawn lecture about the need for transparency between friends, he understands that his concerns were unfounded.

Of course, nobody would conclude that. He and Ram weren’t super close to the regular eye. 

And that’s what he finds Ram telling Tang.

“So you didn’t know King lived here?” Ram nods. “And you didn’t know about Ram?” 

“Not until he was let into the building,” he lies. The security guard, the person who’s definitely seen them come home together on occasion and has a list that confirms their cohabitation, pauses for a moment, somewhat confused. Gratefully, he quickly dismisses the situation with a shake of the head and continues with whatever he’s working on. 

“Why leave home in the first place?” Tang asks. He’s yelling pretty loudly, but the crowd behind them has kicked up, doubling in volume. 

King immediately knows that he’s going to give some bullshit answer. He pointedly kicks the back of the younger’s leg. He doesn’t buckle down, but the senior does get a dirty look. Nonetheless, with seeming reluctance, Ram murmurs that he’ll tell him and the rest of their friends later. Pride and satisfaction swell in King’s chest, which he expresses with an approving pat on the back.

All the while, Boss is patting his shoulder incessantly. “Power bank?” He hands his friend the block and cord. His friend says something about him not usually having one and that he wanted to know how this brand worked. Tang stares at the block, points out the small line of color on its side, and says it looks identical to Ram’s. As per usual, there’s no real response. 

And fate seems to be working in the roommates’ favor. The crowd has fallen quiet, pressuring the boys in the back to do the same. In the little view he can get over the hoards of peoples’ shoulders, King sees that tuft of grey hair at the bottom of the stairs. A mask hides his mouth, and glasses shade his eyes. He has a closed fist out to the crowd. 

But when he moves to remove the coverings, the group grows impossibly louder. 

He smiles brightly at his fans, giving them thumbs-ups. After a few acts of fan service, the faux cuteness being the most nauseating, the boxer traverses up the steps, his presence naturally splitting the crowd. And where it didn’t, the bodyguards easily displaced the bodies in front of him. 

At some point, a fan essentially bodyslams King, trying to reach Way before he enters the building. Ram helps the senior off the floor and tries to pat all the dust away. He inspects his body, finding scrapes along his left palm and elbow. The younger’s glare is murderous, but King insists it’s not that big of a deal. 

Ram shows Tang and Boss the injuries and then wraps his hand around the senior’s wrist to drag him inside. 

The senior is quickly being whisked away into the lobby. “Tell the others I said bye! And that Bohn can take the rest of the food!”

When he turns back around, Way’s waiting for the elevator next to them. Their neighbor looks in their direction, more likely at Ram than King and winks shamelessly. The junior makes the executive decision that the stairs are a better alternative. Although an adamant hater of cardio, the senior can’t help but agree.

** **** **  


After eating dinner and getting ready for bed, Ram sits King down at the foot of the bed as he rummages for the first aid kit underneath the bathroom sink.

“You don’t need to worry either.”

The senior falls silent, and a bit red, not realizing his disdain for the other boxer was so obvious; but he was obligated to hate him by roommate association, right? 

He quietly watches the other clean his wound. He winces a little at some points, but Ram holds him still, handling him like he’s fragile goods.

When the younger’s flattening out the bandage, King opens his mouth to voice his gratitude. Then, Ram presses a light kiss to his palm, almost like a feather. 

Not knowing what else to do, he sticks the bandaged elbow in the younger’s face, trying not to smack him with the body part. It definitely lightens the atmosphere. Ram smiles at the absurdity of the gesture but kisses it nonetheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> elbow kisses lol
> 
> I FOUND SOME OF YOU ON TUMBLR. THAT WAS COOL. IF YOU WANNA HIT ME UP THIS IS [MI tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hxt-pxckets).
> 
> thank all of you for reading my works!! and the comments do be like hahahaha HAHAHAAHa love y'all. like how do i react to predictions that could be right??? my brain cannot compute !!2
> 
> also i know school will be picking up for me soon, so updates my get wonky soon enough, but that's tbd for now.
> 
> alsoalso, tbh i don't think the rating of this story will ever change. if you guys look at the tags of the one thing of smut i've written, my body? incapacitated. brain? dead. hotel? trivago.
> 
> nonetheless,, much love and apprec1ati0n:
> 
>   
>  (Left, Song Minjae, and Right, No Huijin, of MCND)


	18. this tremor; we have loved or we must love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soft memories, adventures with King, Ram, and two small children, and some fashion fun ("fun").

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> henlo humans; an actual sunday night/early monday morning update,, in this economy?? who would've thought. alsoalso much thank for over 5K hits uwuwu
> 
> i like really enjoy this chapter, but if you asked why i wouldn't be able to say.
> 
> classes startup on Wednesday for me, so I'll be gauging the next week and a half to see how heavy my course work is, and will adjust my updating schedule accordingly.
> 
> hope y'all are having a good day!!

Thursday has rolled around, and he and Ram are in a park near their apartment, the twins standing in front of the junior and staring up at him with matching intrigued expressions. (Same.) King told the junior that he could’ve stayed home; he saw the way the younger shivered at the mention of children but figured it was a forced reaction. He knows a lot of people who didn’t want kids in the future and joke around about their natural demonic states. So, when there was no outright, direct denial, he took the extra pair of hands gratefully.

His sister, irritatingly, musses his hair when they see each other in the park and then gazes back at Ram, who has been fixated on his phone ever since they boarded the bus.

“Don’t,” he starts. 

Of course, she ignores him and pokes his chest teasingly. “He’s helping you.”

He removes her hand gently and dramatically waves at her. “Bye,” he drawls. 

His sister rolls her eyes, turning down to the boys staring back at her expectantly. “Be good for Uncle King and Uncle Ram.” She leaves brief kisses on their cheeks, pulls King into a brief embrace, and then quietly waves at Ram, before walking away from them.

The amount of people in their party has now doubled, and King is ready for these next few hours to be over. 

Don’t get him wrong. He loves his sister, and by proxy her children, his nephews. 

King is his sister’s brother, and after living with her for well over fifteen years of their lives, they had a bond, as strong as one between siblings can be. They know each other best, nuances in preferences, small ticks, and personal troubles. He’d stand by his sister’s side whenever a dumb boy broke her heart and would offer to beat him up, although not many people would particularly find a thirteen year old menacing.

The strongest memory he has of the two of them was while he was still in high school, and she working some corporate job she hated. She rolled up in her car and wanted to take him out to the beach to see this thing happening late at night. Bioluminescent phytoplankton, she’d explain later. With a small disturbance, that movement of the waves, they would release something that would make them glow a bright blue. 

It was hours before he’d take an entry exam, to the exact college he currently attended, but the stress of it all got to him. So he met her outside the front door. Their mother would’ve immediately said no if they’d asked, so they didn’t. There were no real other alternatives, seeing she was already asleep. 

The trip was a bit chaotic, a cocktail of her subpar driving abilities, him barely being able to answer her questions if there were girls that he liked at school (he was still figuring himself out; she would later cite that incident as one of the many clues that helped her realize his sexuality), and King worrying about whether or not he’d made the right choice in coming.

Once they arrived, a majority of his personal concerns muted themselves. They didn’t bother getting out of the car when they arrived, able to look at the phenomenon a far way back. His sister turned off the car’s ignition, letting them bask in the moment. The crashing of the waves, mixed with the bright blue was so calming. Part of him wished the stars would show themselves, but being so close to a big city, he wasn’t so lucky. 

The sea definitely made up for the sky’s lack of light. 

King found himself bursting out of the car, his sister yelling behind him. If anyone saw him, it probably would be really weird to witness a teenager dressed in a ratty t-shirt and flannel pants, bounding down the beachside, towards the water. His slippers fell off at some point, letting the water slowly wash over the tops of his feet. He wasn’t used to such cool temperatures, but it was definitely refreshing. Sometimes the brightness would coat his feet. He couldn’t help but be fixated by the ebb and flow. 

When he later ran back to the car, he mentally concluded that it was worth her complaining about the sand trailed into the car, the particles stuck to the soles of his feet. There was some intention behind her complaints, but King, always a pro at reading his sister, saw the smile behind her eyes. 

He knows how she is, always encouraging what’s best for him. And it’s always been appreciated. She even took the blame when they returned early in the morning, that cusp of dawn in the morning where some people are awake, like Ram and their mom. 

But even she couldn’t be too angry at her son’s first break in what felt like forever. 

His sister is the freest spirit he knows. And he loves her for it. So nobody could really blame him when he was surprised to hear she’d settled down. A few months later? Kids. Twins. Her husband’s a good guy, being some high ranking, young officer at her company. Wasn’t a cheater, thank god, but it all definitely came out of nowhere. 

She didn’t change, in the slightest, only becoming marginally more responsible. If anything, King swears a lot of her impulsivity and childishness, just transferred into her kids. 

The twins were inquisitive creatures, asking about anything they didn’t know, which is, of course, a good trait to have as a child; you learn more. However, another thing they picked up from their mother, they also lacked boundaries. 

“You look kind of different,” one of them poses. 

“And that’s not a bad thing,” King reminds them. The junior’s gaze flicks back and forth between the children and the senior. It’s a bit amusing. 

The other points upwards, towards his neck. “Is that a tattoo?” He jumps up excitedly, trying to touch the ink. Ram immediately flinches at the approach, slowly walking backward and away from the small children. However, he’s gradually slowing down; King recognizes that flashing fear.

“Kids,” he states, catching their attention, “how about we play with your Switch a little bit?” He pulls out the said device, and immediately, they jump to take it out of his hand. King watches them run over to a patch of shade beneath a tree. 

“Hey,” he tells Ram, “Are you genuinely scared of children?”

The younger shrugs. 

“I think I can handle them by myself,” he insists, both trying to convince himself and Ram. 

He stares back, slowly raising an eyebrow.

King nods. “I mean. I’ve done it before. Barely got past the terrible twos, and then when they would just nonstop ask why. They’re still doing it now, but it’s more controlled now.”

Ram tilts his head, not in confusion, but more amusement. So it’s not too much of a surprise when the senior feels his phone vibrate in his back pocket.

 **Private Chat between cool boy and sweetheart**  
_15:33_

 **cool boy**  
Okay, I won’t help you watch them.  
They seem like invasive little shits.  
No offense.

The senior looks back towards the kids, one of them whining at his loss and the other cheering, shoving his success in the other’s face. 

“You aren’t wrong.”

 **cool boy**  
I’m more here for your sanity.  
We can go get food or something after we’re done.

King smiles at the proposal. “Are you just too lazy to cook?” He looks down at his phone. “We’re out of groceries.” Ram nods to emphasize his point. “Then we should go do that, too. We won’t have any time tomorrow.”

When the younger sticks his pinky out, a fondness coats his body. It reminds him of the relationship he has with his sister and the mutual trust they share. King’s grateful to have another person who he feels like he can share everything with. He hasn’t yet, but it’s comforting to know that he can. The blue waves; he'd probably like that.

The senior links their fingers together, looking forward to the rest of his day.

But King has to focus on the boys first.

** **** **  


He’s able to take the Switch back after half an hour, but it levels the boys out of his favor. They’re sulky and pouting, barely complying with his requests. 

“Let’s walk around the park first,” he proposes, “and then you guys can get your switch back later.” King holds them by the shoulders and pushes them down the small trail. And it works for the most part.

The only weird thing he’s started picking up on is the brother’s whispers back and forth. They’re planning something and it makes the senior a bit uneasy, but the only proof he has is his gut. Kids will be kids, he tells himself, even if they could be possibly planning the end of the world without his knowledge.

“Uncle King,” one of them says.

King puts his hand on his head. “What’s up?”

He waves King down so he’s at his face level. The younger has been sort of trailing them at a consistent rate, neither stopping when one of the boys finds an interesting rock or stick, nor speeding up when they zoom forward to race each other. But somehow, he’s maintained a pretty close distance. 

The child cups his hand and leans in, whispering, “Is he your boyfriend?”

He smiles at the misconception, looking over to a mostly preoccupied Ram. He’s also a bit confused at how he got to that conclusion, but that’s a question for another time. King fucks up when he lets their eyes lock. Turning away quickly, he clarifies, “Roommate.”

He doesn’t seem satisfied with this response. Neither does his brother, who squints his eyes at him. “Uncle King,” the other boy begins, “We want a favor from you.”

The elder gestures for him to continue.

“Can you kiss your boyfriend for us? And then let us take a picture?” Even his brother seems alarmed.

“Dude, no. I think what we already have is enough.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

He hates how loud children are. Ram stops in his tracks and back peddles for once. How the hell is he supposed to explain this? (Spoiler alert: he can’t.)

“Not my boyfriend,” he repeats, “And why?”

The one who was strongly against the proposal stares at his brother. He, shamelessly, smiles, and shakes his head. 

King bends down and playfully shakes his shoulders, punctuating each word. “Tell. Me.”

The child just laughs. 

Then behind him, someone coughs. The three of them turn towards Ram, who towers over them. “How about we make a bet?” Okay honestly, can this guy be less consistent with who he’ll talk to?

The more logical brother, the one not trapped in King’s grasp, approaches the junior, who this time to his credit doesn’t back down. “What’s your offer?”

He looks around at their surroundings, which honestly isn’t much. There are trees on each side of the path, some pedestrians that pass by them, but nothing noticeable.

“A piggyback race. To that pole,” he points to the very end of the trail. “If you lose, then you can’t complain about what King does with both of you. Actually behave and don’t run off.” The senior doesn’t have much faith in the children. Ram is a stranger to them, and if they lose, the kids will be sore losers which won’t be any better for him. 

But also, it could be an opportunity for him to try to teach them morals. Emphasis on try. 

King thinks about what to say but doesn’t have much time to completely process all the possibilities. He registers the boy running out of his hands and jumping on his brother’s back. They bound as quickly as they can to the tree, although balancing seems to be an issue. 

Ram’s already bent down, prepared to hold the senior on his back. 

“Why the hell would you say that?” he mutters but nonetheless wrapping his arms around the younger’s shoulders. Ram doesn’t reply, instead firmly holding his legs and bounding down the path. Stable and strong enough to carry King, surprising, to say the least, he quickly makes up for the lost time. 

Chest pressed to the other’s back, he finds comfort in the younger’s warmth and the way some bits of his hair tickle his face. 

“RUN COOL BOY,” he shouts, one arm raised encouragingly. “R U N.” He’s not surprised to find that all the time the younger man spends on his morning runs work to his benefit. Ram is a speedy boy, and they quickly outpace his nephews. When they arrive well before them, the junior drops him to the ground, just to lift him back up in celebration. 

King instinctively throws his arms up. It’s not much time, but the seconds are enough for him to understand what’s happening. Shouts of excitement slowly fade into the background. As adrenaline races through him, disappointment also settles in his mind. 

He wouldn’t outwardly admit it, but he does want Ram to kiss him. The junior is dashing as fast as he can, however. Their circumstances are weird, both at an emotional stalemate and maybe them losing this bet could’ve been a final but necessary push. It’s probably a dumb thought, him overthinking. (He could totally make the first move, but this is okay).

The younger notices his pensive expression when he puts the senior down. His hand reaches up to the back of his head, threading his fingers naturally through the dark strands. 

Then he smiles.

The way Ram stares at him is mischievous, an expression he hasn’t seen in a long time, since before they lived together. Any flirting between them drips with genuine adoration and emotion. Whatever this is is just teasing. When he leans in closer, King freezes. His arms brace over Ram’s chest and all he can think about is that moment in the restroom so many weeks ago. 

“Our first kiss isn’t happening because of a stupid bet with your nephews,” he states. And then, with a brief pat of the head, the junior is walking away.

Not sure where to turn, King decides on the lesser of two evils, and faces his nephews. They have a tablet out, pointed in their direction. Flustered, he asks what they’re doing. 

In an obvious display of guilt, they simply run past him, grinning satisfyingly. He’s exhausted, but King chases after them.

** **** **  


[“I told them if they took a picture of the two of you kissing, I’d buy them a game,” his sister easily reasons when she comes to 

“You’re evil.”

“I made a bet with Man,” she continues, “He doesn’t think you’re in a relationship.”

King puts his hand out, faux choking his sister. “He’s right!” he yells.

“I still think he’ll be doing the dishes for the next week, based on what I saw,” she shrugs. He can’t even say anything before she’s telling her kids to say goodbye to him and Ram. They hug their uncle and then pause in front of the younger man. Ram sticks a finger out at them, which they both quickly poke, and then run back to their mother. 

His sister nods approvingly. “Seriously great taste, dude.”

“BYE!” he exclaims, walking back towards his roommate.]

“Where the fuck are one of the microphones?” A techie asks. Mind gestures over to the sound booth, suggesting that they may have it.

“One of the girl’s heels collapsed.” She gestures to the first aid kit where for some reason there’s superglue. 

It’s the next day, and all King can do is worry about Ram and his walk. They’d used a majority of the week to train the younger for his newfound model occupation, back and forth in their apartment, and even a little bit on the floor’s hallway, when nobody was around. This morning, King had tried to warm him up properly, adjusting his posture, but Ram seemed a bit skittish. He can’t blame him; he was also nervous for the rest of their day. 

However, after the first round of outfits, the class president had called the younger over, which by default attracted the senior.

Mind stares at Ram, and the walks he’s been doing back and forth backstage. She’s somehow also coordinating this event (King could never imagine being president and having that much responsibility). [Her outfit](https://www.instagram.com/p/B8JcT8MBLjd/) amplifies the authority she already has. 

“Back straight,” she instructs, “Try to swing your arms less; you aren’t chopping anything in front of you. Look a little lower.” Her hand waves down more. “Lower. Yeah, right there. His pacing isn’t bad. That’s the most important part.”

She turns to King. “Stop worrying. Go change into your next outfit.”

Ram waves him goodbye and immediately focuses back on the other senior’s instructions. He reluctantly backs away and approaches the stylists; he will admit he’s ecstatic to get out of the purple monstrosity he’s wearing. They hand him a bag he’s so sure looks bulkier than others that he’s seen. 

“How do I put on these pants?” he asks.

After some help, King is dressed and sitting in a makeup chair, letting a young woman attach iridescent circles to his face and neck. He can’t really ask why since he’s been told to keep still. More positively, he quite likes [his styling](https://www.instagram.com/p/CAXqljfjVkq/) with the off white long sleeve romper, accented by the long denim vest and overlaying too wide pants. 

Bohn stands next to him, having just completed his makeup. He’s wearing something effectively much [more simple](https://www.instagram.com/p/CCqiSdisLrL/) than him; an oversized, dull blue, lace shirt, and offwhite pants.

“They’re putting so much more effort onto you,” he observes, a bit petulant. 

His dagger eyes fail, as per usual. 

Ohm then appears next to him, whacking him lightly with his shirt and saying his name with every contact. 

He sighs in fond annoyance. The younger is a hard worker (He hates to admit it but their professor was right) when made accountable by the right person. He honestly believes the younger is a genuinely good student, but just won't stop flirting with him. When he spares him a glance, he notices he’s [wearing](https://www.instagram.com/p/CCqiSdisLrL/) a blue sleeveless top, a large loop around his neck, and white pants that taper around the ankle. Unsurprisingly, it fits him. “Yes, Ohm?”

“Feel my shirt.” He dangles a little part of it in front of his face. As he rubs it between his fingers, he looks back at the skater. “Do you know what it’s made out of?”

“It’s a little rough, like linen.”

“No. It’s boyfriend material.” 

The girl putting the finishing touches on his blush huffs either in amusement or annoyance. She then waves him off so he can stand with the other ready people. 

"Ram didn't look like he was about to destroy me for once," he mutters as they turn away.

King smiles, proud his warning had worked. 

Most people are crowded around a screen, monitoring a live broadcast of the fashion show. Way has just passed into the spotlight,

The boxer is rounding out their first theme, VI/|\ID. Everyone was dressed in bright colors, against King’s personal taste. The current royal blue, snakeskin [patterned suit](https://channel-korea.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/07/NCT-Lucas-SFW-3.png) he's wearing would probably look ridiculous on anyone else, but Way makes it work. He glides smoothly down the walkway.

“He was recruited to go to Fashion Week last year,” Bohn explains.

Moments later, he sees a familiar figure pull up next to him in his peripherals.

Ram’s in this [plain cream sweatshirt](https://www.instagram.com/p/B-o4bX9DxMe/), which would be fine, except for the gaping hole on his left shoulder. It displays one of his larger pieces, and he can’t help but thank and curse the stylists. Brushing his skin, are these delicate hoops that do nothing to soften the hard muscle and dark ink it surrounds. His grey-blue pants are similar to Ohm’s, crowning his nude socks and loafer clad feet. 

The younger eventually spares a look at him, and not surprisingly, his eyes travel down to his legs, exposed by his pants. King hopes his eyes effectively mirror his confusion; he has no idea either. Dangling a few centimeters off the floor, are his bare feet. 

“What the fuck?” He hears Ohm mutter next to him. “What the hell is he doing?”

Way stands at the end of the runway, smiling his charismatic smile. He's taken his hat off, and pulled out of it, a small microphone pack. King can't help but be slightly impressed at his balancing skills. “Hi! How’s everyone doing this evening?” The crowd is a mess. Half of them shout excitedly for this man’s presence, and the rest simply clap politely.

“Seeing that this is a charity event, I’d like to place more on the table. Depending on the number of people who agree to go on the engineering major’s volunteer trip, I’ll probably do a boxing match!”

To his surprise, Mind isn’t doing anything about it. If anything she looks intrigued. She squeezes into his other side, so she can witness whatever’s happening. When he asks her, she seems also baffled. 

“And my competitor will be,” he pauses, “Drumroll please.” Loud stomps arise from the crowd. “Ram Vera!”

At the mention of his name, everyone stares back at the junior, whose expression doesn’t greatly change, but King can tell that he’s not confirming it in the slightest. There may even be some shock behind those features. 

Way’s voice reappears, this time rumbling rather than ringing. 

“Baby," he exhales, all too intimately," you better agree.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when i was writing up what to do, my brain stared at my writing and was like this shit is too bland. so,,,, CLIFFHANGER (Haven't had one of those in a while lolol).
> 
> i personally enjoy how i redid the kids scene, but also i did a lot of gratuitous dressing of characters; I WILL NEVER GET OVER THAT TALAY PHOTOSHOOT LIKE HOLY SHIT. AND PERTH WITH THAT SWEATER. and then for Ohm and Bohn, I hope my descriptions were clear enough. The second one from the left, i essentially went that's that's too similar to ram's and yeeted that. 
> 
> thank you again for sticking around!! much love to everyone <3
> 
>   
>  (Kim Hyojin of ONF)


	19. fire grows beneath the moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the runway with many reactions and theories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> many apologies for the late update; and slightly smaller volume (this might be a trend because, but I promise no reduction in quality, just quantity). my internet went yeet because of heat (lol slight rhymes)
> 
> THIS STORY IS AT 250 KUDOS YO THAT DO SLAP!! THANKS TO ALL OF YOU WHO HAVE SUPPORTED ME, ESPECIALLY SINCE DAY ONE. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE AND I LOVE ALL OF YOU AND THE COMMENTS. 
> 
> school is back, and from what it seems, things aren't looking great for those living there because outdoor parties. people are dumb; and i hope to any of you other uni students that you aren't having any similar issues. 
> 
> alsoalso, if you can help those affected by hurricane laura here are resources at [the American Red Cross](https://www.redcross.org/about-us/our-work/disaster-relief/hurricane-relief/hurricane-laura-relief.html) (donate if you ca n)
> 
> stay safe and i hope you enjoy the chapter!

After the show ends (King will not understand how she had the patience to wait that long), Mind immediately drags Ram away when Way reappears from behind the curtain. The boxer starts to verbally argue against the treatment, but even he is no match for the stare of an angry class president who plans everything out to the tee (lol, puns) and an equally if not more angry ex-boyfriend’s glare.

Ram had told him a vague outline of what happened. Baby gays get close to each other. They slowly come to age and realize their attraction to men. Oh, my best friend and attractive training partner is very conveniently going through the same thing? Why not take this opportunity to explore? Eventually, the physical turned more emotional for almost a year, until Way refused to say anything about the exclusionary comments going on.

Apparently was a genuinely good partner; except for the unfounded tolerance. But based on Way’s current behavior, he wasn’t the same guy Ram had told him about.

The senior briefly makes eye contact with the younger, who nods his head to the left. He doesn’t want him to wait for him. King decides to undress and check back on him after. 

While he’s alone in his corner, Ohm walks up, already ready to leave.

“I just wanted to say, I didn’t know what he was doing.” King throws his shirt on really quickly, before genuinely paying attention to the second year. He’s dressed in a plain sweatshirt and jeans, skateboard tucked under his arm. His makeup has been washed out, but his hair is still styled up from the excessive amount of hair gel they’d put on him. But more importantly, he grips the strap of the messenger bag nervously, and his eyes communicate an intention. One that he can’t deny is true.

“Your brother isn’t trying to stir up something that’s already been settled for years?”

Ohm pauses and ultimately nods. “Well, that’s probably what he’s trying to do, but I didn’t know he’d go out there and announce it to everyone and I have no idea why he’d do it. It doesn’t benefit him, unless Ram suffering is a benefit.”

Worry sinks to the bottom of his stomach. “Why would he suffer?”

The second-year turns pensive, too serious for the senior’s preference. “It’s a legal thing,” he concludes, “I shouldn’t be the one to tell you.”

King gapes at him. “You can’t just leave me with that. 

And then his characteristic mischievousness returns, but it’s not completely there. “I’m going to have to go now.” He rolls away. “See you Monday!”

Why can’t King get an ounce of respect at this school? He finishes getting dressed and looks around for Ram. Backstage is still pretty crowded as everyone works to undress, clean up all the clothes and equipment, and scramble to get home. But in the chaos the senior can’t spot Ram or even way; all he can find is a very exhausted Mind.

“Did you see where Ram went?”

She waves towards the door. “I think he went to go talk shit out with Way.”

“Did you get anything out from him about why?”

“He said it would be good publicity for both of our departments, maybe showcase Ram’s skills as a boxer. I was unaware that he had professional training, but Way was pretty insistent. Ram looked very irritated at the situation and seemed like he didn’t want to do the fight. I told them to figure it out themselves. So now they discuss.”

He bows at her in thanks, before speeding off to the door, but nobody’s out there.

 **Private Chat between cool boy and sweetheart**  
_19:22_

 **sweetheart**  
did you go home?

The incoming text is immediate.

 **cool boy**  
On the way.

 **sweetheart**  
you didn’t wait for me? ;-;

 **cool boy**  
Something urgent came up.  
Sorry. 

**sweetheart**  
:<

**cool boy**  
See you at home.

No teasing? No additional apologizing or calling him cute (he knows that's a cute thing to do) or the stray ‘sweetheart’? Something feels weird. Is King overreacting? Maybe a pinch, but he can’t help but be worried. However, before he can leave, a strong hand circles around his forearm. 

“What’s the rush?” Bohn asks.

King stutters for a moment because it’s just gotta be not Ram related. “Gotta go water my plants.”

Being his best friend, of course, the other senior doesn’t believe him. “There’s no way you forgot to do that. It’s too deeply ingrained into your daily routine.” And slowly he’s being pulled away. “Come drink with us. It’s a weekend, so there’s no excuse.”

He’s about to retort because the senior really thinks he should go home and comfort the first year. What if he’s distressed and not feeling well or maybe needs a hug (At this rate, King needs one too). But it’s weird if he doesn’t accept because they haven’t gone drinking for a while. Neutrally, he doesn’t argue back and nods, but also quickly shoots a text to Ram as discreetly as possible, asking about his welfare. 

Soon enough, King finds himself sitting in Bohn’s car, but instead of his comfortable spot at the front, he’s guided into the backseat, next to Thara, who greets him with a small wave of fingers. Just as his best friend pulls out of the parking lot, King feels his phone buzz in his hand.

 **Private Chat between cool boy and sweetheart**  
_19:30_

 **cool boy**  
I got home safely, if that’s what you’re wondering.

 **sweetheart**  
no i kno nobody would think of crossing you  
but i meant like if you were okay in general

 **cool boy**  
I could be better, to put it simply.

 **sweetheart**  
what if i don’t want simple?

The text bubble appears for a long time, but then it disappears. 

“King,” Duen says, momentarily tearing said senior’s attention away from his phone, “What do you think is up with whatever just went down with Ram?”

Not wanting to showcase his inherent bias, he asks if he’s asked the first year himself. 

And to his surprise, the medical student nods. “Yes, but of course, Ram being the independent person he is told me,” and then in a poor imitation of the other’s voice, “‘Don’t worry about it, I’m figuring it out.’ But I just want to help,” he whines.

He keeps going, but King’s attention hones back in on his phone when it vibrates again.

 **cool boy**  
Have fun drinking.  
Don't worry.

 **sweetheart**  
how do you know i'm out rn?

 **cool boy**  
Duen invited me before I left.  
Said I couldn't go.  
Whatever happens, you can’t tell them I live with you.

What the hell? That’s been a given for the past couple of months; why remind him now?

“The whole thing was really weird,” Duen continues. When King hums in agreement, it’s completely genuine, albeit for a very different reason. 

Thara nods. “Palpable sexual tension.” 

“Not sure about that one,” King observes, “Ram didn’t really react.”

“But the way he whispered,” Thara emphasizes, “That’s not a baseless tone.”

“Seriously,” Duen adds from the front, “Even if it wasn’t sexual, there’s something going on between them.”

“Are we about to delve into some big analysis of what Way said?” King jokes, redirecting the conversation. 

“Not all of it, but some of it.”

Bohn chuckles. “Maybe wait until we actually have everyone together, babe.”

While Thara audibly groans at the pet name, King can’t help but smile somewhat bittersweetly to himself and think of one (1) particular stoic man.

** **** **  


King wants to be surprised at the number of people waiting outside, but it’s as much as expected. Frong had been a bit of a surprise, both to him and even Thara (definitely more pleasant for the latter). The business major looked ready to protest, but free alcohol tends to quell many people’s concerns.

“He’s a decent enough guy, from what Thara’s said,” Bohn relays, “And I’m just hoping he won’t hit on Duen. If he does, it’s on sight.”

He immediately laughs at his best friend’s antics. “You’d probably still lose, buddy,” King admits he probably deserves the slap to the back of his head. 

The moment they step in, everyone settles down a bit with a few drinks and congratulates the one day models for a job well done at the show. After all the niceties have finished, Duen starts what King can only describe as an open forum. He first shares a shaky video of what had happened on stage; does the fact that he casts it onto the living room television feel a little weird to the senior? Definitely, but he quietly watches anyways. (He would argue that his mannerisms, the arrogant way he stood, the lack of movement in his arms, and his self-satisfied expression were important details to pay attention to, but he’ll also admit that the bread and butter of the situation are in the words he said.)

“Way and Ram,” Duen announces, a bit angrily after the video is over. He spots his best friend secretly switching his boyfriend’s full bottle for a quarter full one. “What’s going on with them?” 

“They have to be dating,” Mek confidently states, “Or at least did at some point.”

“Baby,” Tee says to himself, “You don’t call anyone random baby.”

“Boxer boyfriends,” Phu poses.

“Unless you’re a total creep who lacks boundaries,” King supplements, “So it could be a weird habit he’s picked up.”

Frong shrugs at that. “I’ve talked to him a few times in our elective. Not once has he called me baby, or have I ever heard him call anyone that.”

“So at least some kind of history,” Duen concludes, looking satisfied at this progress. 

“Where is Ram?” TingTing asks from the floor, head resting back against a surprisingly calm Tang.

Duen waves off not very coordinated, “Went home for some reason.”

The room murmurs in acceptance until Boss jumps up excitedly. “They’re dating and he lives with Way!”

All eyes are on him. Even King. “I mean, Ram was able to go into King’s apartment building when we couldn’t because he was a resident there.” The senior’s brain works just a few moments faster, and the reasoning makes some sort of sense but sends an unpleasant shiver down his body. “And with the baby thing…” he trails off, points obviously made. 

“Wait, wait,” King hears himself saying, “But you’re forgetting everything that’s happened before this. Way wants to fight him. Like a full-on boxing match.”

There’s a moment of quiet consideration.

“Wylan Chang just wants to fight his boyfriend in public because they’re going through a rough spot,” Thara proposes kiddingly.

Phu asks a somewhat related question. “If they’re dating, why aren’t they out about it?” It causes Tee to break out into a fit of fond laughter.

“It’s called winning favor with a wider audience,” he explains, “And not everyone happens to be as accepting of the not heteros as this friend group.”

King can hear TingTing’s pout. She raises her hand. “Please don’t hate me.” Tang comfortingly wraps an arm around her. 

“Bitch,” Duen exclaims, “You wouldn’t be here if we hated you.”

“Okay,” Mek concludes after pondering a bit longer. “If anything, they’re ex-boyfriends and they have some animosity to squish, or Way just has lingering feelings and he hopes that he’ll get rid of them if they fight.”

King perks up slightly at the idea. “That one might make actual sense.”

“Wait, but doesn’t that mean they aren’t living together?” Bohn asks.

“Not necessarily,” Frong adds, “If Mek is right, and Way has some residual feelings for Ram,” (King is pretty irritated at how perfect of a person they’re making the boxer out to be. Actual compassion? Not from what he’s ever seen), “Then, it makes some sense that he’d invite him into his apartment, right?”

“Did he ever tell you about what happened, like why he’s not at home?” Thara asks.

Duen and the rest of his friends nod. “Just some family stuff,” he says vaguely. King can’t help but smile to himself a little bit; he’s happy for Ram and his transparency.

“So instead of going to any of you guys,” Boss observes, “He went to the ex he never told any of you about?”

Phu shrugs. “The reasoning he gave was just not wanting to burden us, although there’s no way he could have. But he found somewhere which is a good thing.”

“Sounds a lot like someone we know,” Bohn comments, pointing directly at King, “This boy literally thinks all his issues are his own and won’t share any of his feelings with us.”

The senior stands up and starts to refute his best friend’s words. “I am a very empathetic person.”

Boss laughs, “That doesn’t make you any less secretive.”

Duen circles them back to the topic at hand. “Do you see Ram come in or out of the building?”

As everyone stares at him expectantly, he mentally combs through the potential answers he could give all while trying to avoid the truth and the thought of Ram living with Way. That’s just, unpleasant. He takes a swig of his beer and tries to maintain his mental dam as best as possible

“Okay,” he breathes out, “I don’t know if I’m supposed to say this, but Way is my neighbor.” While the room falls into discourse, King takes the moment to collect his thoughts as well as he can. “But I’ve never seen anyone but him go in and out of those doors. So I don’t really think Ram is staying with him.”

“But, if you’ve known him as long as we have,” Phu adds, “You learn that he’s an objective thinker, and Way may have been the best option for him at the time.”

“Way didn’t get back until what?” Boss thinks aloud, “Two weeks ago? But he’s been out of his house since when?”

“Four weeks,” Tang mutters.

King’s slightly amused by this lack of understanding. The small smile on his face may have indicated that all too much.

“Are you okay with all of this?” Mek whispers to him.

He shrugs, taking another sip from his cup. “I mean. I don’t know? It’s just unfortunate that I’ve liked this taken guy for months right?”

Mek stares quietly before grinning in a way that can only be described as maniacal. 

“What?”

“You finally said it.” King’s not sure what to think as he has his body being shaken back and forth. “We’ve all known, but like, here’s finally an admission!” His friend is turning around, slowly whispering whatever newfound conclusion he’s come to. Their friends nod approvingly. Boss shoots him a pair of supportive thumbs up.

“What?” he repeats.

“That you do like Ram!”

King’s not sure what to say anymore. Maybe because everything has been accelerated by cohabitating, but those feelings have become so second nature to him that they’ve been accepted as pure fact to him. Just an accepted truth. Something undeniable. 

So that’s what he does. “I thought you guys knew?”

“But it’s different when you admit it!”

King laughs. “Is it?” He tunes in slightly to the timeline conversation they’re trying to have. The first years and the other seniors look heavily invested in trying to figure it all out.

Boss nods excitedly from the floor. 

“Are you going to tell him?”

He has indirectly, but, “if the circumstances are like this,” he states, “I don’t know if I should.” (properly).

“Wylan Chang,” Mek mulls, “Those are some pretty high standards to beat.”

Way Chulanont, King thinks to himself, a standard that is easily destroyed.

** **** **  


King finally is able to sneak out of the building, happy, but albeit a little tipsy. The bus ride is a bit of a blur, filled with chain texts from his friends teasing him about his confession, and maybe a text to Ruj, but that isn’t his priority. 

When he unlocks the door to his apartment and walks into the bedroom, Ram seems to have already passed out. All of the lights are out, but some of the moonlight from the open windows shines on his face.

Needing to wash the smell of alcohol and residual makeup, off his body and face, King traverses into his room for a quick shower. Cleaner, he takes a seat on the bed.

“Cool Boy,” he sings, poking his face a few times. “Are you ready for bed?”

His eyelids flutter for a moment before staring at him. “How was tonight?” King lets his finger trail down his neck, spotting the dark contrast of ink on his skin.

“Not bad. Some people think you’re living with Way. Others think you’re currently dating him or have dated him. So some people are figuring some of it out.”

He can feel him hum through his neck. Tracing the outline of the dreamcatcher tattoo, he asks about it. To his surprise, he doesn’t ask him to stop. 

“Is it for bad dreams?” The younger nods. “Do you still get them?” He nods, again. King feels himself smile, bittersweet. “Me too. But less often, recently.” His hand moves, finding purchase in the younger’s hair, lightly combing through it.

The silence returns, all too naturally. 

Ram takes his palm and brushes over the bandaids lightly. “My friends texted me to say that you admitted to liking me tonight.”

King scoffs, “I don’t think that’s anything new.”

The younger stares up at him expectantly. The senior tries to let the words out, but the nervousness that rises in him blocks them from coming out. Ram returns his hand to his lap and pats the top of it comfortingly. “No rush, sweetheart.”

Ram feels much looser than he had earlier over text. Nonetheless, he can’t help but ask, “Are you okay?” The younger nods.

“Do you want to talk about it? If not maybe eventually?”

Instead of replying, the first year says, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Nothing in particular. Just felt right to say.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know it's a little short this time, but sincerely, thank you for reading. i've decided that instead of maybe slowing down updates, they may become slightly smaller. Like how they were at the beginning of this story's making (closer to 3K than 4K word updates).
> 
> this was slight filler, for which i apologize, but hey,,, reworking of tattoo scene except king is kinda drunk/naturally comfortable with ram, instead of being high on painkillers.
> 
> okayokay. I'm always so to provide consistent content for all of you to read! i just wanna thank all of you again for this support!!
> 
>   
>  (Lee Keonhee of ONEUS)
> 
> and a bonus one because i'm stupid whipped for oneus's early childhood education major kim geonhak:


	20. tell me about it, who you are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King's Nine Red Flags that Culminate to One Enormous Concern.
> 
> CW: mentions of alcoholism (skip part 2), and restraining orders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the extremely late update; i'm used to typing in the wee hours (and on **the twentieth chapter,** I know ;-;), but recently i've been passing out before midnight, and i haven't been feeling well. But here's a thicc chapter just over 4K words!!
> 
> anyways, I really have to thank all of ou for the over 6K hits (sincerely, I'm so happy to provide good content for y'all to consumE)
> 
> warning: this is extremely unbetaed and has gone through multiple drafts but fuzzy brain says lol, so it might not be the best chapter.
> 
> thank you much for reading!!

The next few days become hectic, mostly students gauging whether or not the fight is actually going to happen. At first, King sees it as harmless negotiation, and doesn’t worry much about it; Ram doesn’t seem concerned. He doesn’t explain why leaving the senior to presume. His best guess is that it won’t happen at all. They only need a couple more engineering kids, and Mind, ever the strict president should be able to cut it off.

But there were a number of red flags warning him that yes, something was off (you know, besides the whole roommate fighting his ex-boyfriend)

** **** **  


** 1\. On Sunday, he wakes up to some texts from Ruj. **  


**Private Chat between Ruj Vera and King Thanthep**  
_10:09_

**Ruj Vera**  
heY  
what do you mean  
Ram is fighting wylan chang  
He can’t do that

It’s not the most inviting string of sentences to see first thing in the morning while his head slightly buzzes from a hangover, but there they are. He curses his tipsy self.

 **King Thanthep**  
Why not?

 **Ruj Vera**  
Legal reasons

 **King Thanthep**  
What

He’s heard that before, but his brain can’t place it.

 **Ruj Vera**  
I can’t say  
I like staying alive  
Ask him  
He’ll tell you

 **King Thanthep**  
But  
What the hell are legal reasons

 **Ruj Vera**  
I just said ask him  
He doesn’t like it when he’s eXposEd  
Can’t you  
R E A D

To prove his literacy, he quickly types goodbye to the younger man and gently pats Ram’s shoulder, trying to urge him awake while also giving him the opportunity to satiate his curiosity. Ram never completely falls asleep after a run; he's just looking for a moment of peace to rest, post-workout, but not much more. After a few coos of his name, he quietly hums in acknowledgment. 

“You shouldn’t have to fight Way.”

Eyes still closed, the younger smiles. “No good morning?”

“Cool Boy,” he whines, “I’m being serious.”

Ram reasons that there was nobody else who can put up a good enough fight and that with the collected funds from the registration fees, even after Way’s requested percentage, it’d push their major afloat. 

“Its reputation already isn’t the greatest,” he continues, “and if I forfeit, it could reflect badly on the program.”

King hates it when the younger is right. Recent years have seen funding being cut for their extracurriculars, causing less matriculating students, and furthermore, less space for students to hone in on their interests. Students barely got their labs done in time, and with that being a recipe for failing grades and thus an even worse reputation, the cycle perpetuated itself. 

“But I heard you can’t because of legal reasons,” he states. Ram does not respond, looking like he was slowly falling back asleep with the way the senior gently combed his hair (it was a common occurrence.)

He eventually responds, asking if Ruj had gone into detail. King tries to redirect the conversation, asking him how he knew it was Ram. His eyes flutter open and with a pointed look, claiming that he, his brother, and also Ohm were the only individuals who really knew about the situation. 

The conversation he had with Ohm comes to mind, where he says Ram couldn’t touch him because of “legal reasons.”

King tries to push more information out of the younger man, but he invites him to eat first.

** **** **  


**2\. Ram tells him a lot, and when he says a lot, he means a lot, probably more than he should know.**  
King really hates how little he knows about the junior. The two of them sat quietly by the windows, him staring expectantly at the man in front of him. 

He starts by talking about Ohm and Way, more specifically, about them being stepbrothers.

Boxing ran through Way’s blood, his father being one of the best in China. His mother hailed from Thailand but was finishing up her degree in Hong Kong. After meeting him at a bar, not knowing who he was at all, he’d approached her, and they hit it off. 

But, insufficient protective measures were taken, and there she was, pregnant and all. At the peak of his career, the boxer had been aggressively torn between marrying the mother to his son or furthering his blaze of glory. His manager insisted that PR would sink if he were to get a wife, losing his hot bachelor image. He did the best he could; he promised to visit them every weekend in the next city over, pay for all of their bills, while also fighting as much as he could.

That was what they did. For years. It wasn’t until years later, when Way was in elementary school, that things went absolutely haywire. A member of his press team, angry that she’d been fired, exposed this secret to the world. He wasn’t shunned, but things were never the same for him, unfortunately. Losing all of the attention, the spotlight shifting to younger, up and coming boxers, he’d retired and claimed to settle down with his family. 

He didn’t lie, but it wasn’t a happily ever after. To deal with the fall from glory, the boxer turned to alcohol. The mother saw the signs early and tried to get him to rehabilitate, but any confrontation brought upon aggressive behavior. A woman who won’t take shit, she collected as much as she could, while attempting to rationalize to her child why they had to leave (King can’t imagine how hard that must be, especially if the child hadn’t been able to see his father more than two days a week, and he probably has an attachment to him. (Ram quietly handed him tissues to use instead of the back of his hand.))

Upon returning to Thailand, she had a good amount of money to support herself and her child. She worked while he went to school, just gradually incurring more money. Eventually, her marketing degree as well as extensive knowledge of the boxing world landed her a job working for the National Boxing Association of Thailand where she would meet Ohm’s father, a widow. 

The two of them hit it off, bonding over their shared single parenthood and mutual interests. They fell in love with each other, and then boom there she was, actually married. 

Ram had paused at that moment, to stare at King whose brain could somewhat wrap around what was happening. When he raised his eyebrows up, he responded with an iffy pair of thumbs up. 

Naturally, Way grew to love boxing as well, and his mom didn’t hold him back. He was damn good at it; people would say favoritism from his father, who gradually worked up the ladder to become one of the board members for the team and was eventually appointed its ultimate and current association’s owner. Ram emphasized his talent again and again, until King had to urge him to stop because it was too much Way oriented positivity for his taste.

The younger breezes through his entrance, the story already being told. 

“Nepotism,” King concludes. 

Ram nodds. “So when they put the restraining order-

** **** **  


**3\. Ram has a restraining order on his public record.**  
King can't believe his ears. “-on me, it applied not only to Way but the rest of his family as well.”

“A restraining order,” he repeats. A restraining order. He’s learning as much about them as the internet will show him. 

It runs out later this month, which was why the fight was made so abruptly.

The senior has many questions, but Ram isn't giving him very clear answers. “Why hasn’t he reported you yet?” A shrug. “Isn’t this illegal?” Something that could have been a nod, but barely. 

Ram continues, saying that if he agrees to the fight, he would move out of the apartment complex and promise not to report the younger. Sure, that’s cool and all, but it doesn't make sense. 

Why is he so trusting of Way and that he’ll move out? He’s annoying, but it’s not necessary. Unless. He asks him what the distance of the restraining order. 

The junior sighs deeply but reluctantly tells him that it was 15 meters. 

“Doesn’t that mean that,” King points down to the floor, and then at the wall adjacent to Way’s apartment, “You’ve been breaking it for the past month and a half.”

“Half the time,” he jokes, obviously trying to lighten the atmosphere. “It’s okay when I’m in the bedroom.”

More worry starts to fill King. He announces again, as much as he didn’t want to, that he has to leave. The younger laughs, resting a warm hand over his. The gesture dampens his anxieties a bit, but not by much. “It’s been what. A week or two already? He knows I live here. I think he just genuinely wants to beat my ass.”

Frustration mixed with the concern forces his hands to close into small fists. “What the fuck. And aren’t you worried about jail time and a possible felony charge,” he moves his hands and wildly gesticulates. “You don’t even trust him. What makes you think he won’t go back on his promise?”

Ram levies that it’s possible for him to get a lawyer good enough to maybe work around the restraining order, especially if Way was the one who antagonized him. As optimistic as that sounded, King has his doubts.

As the younger walks away with all their dishes, the senior follows. He tried to urge him that that was definitely not how things would be and that a single scratch on his body could fuck him over. He’s not sure, but the fact it’s a mere possibility and not a surety concerns him. The junior brushed past him to clean the plates.

** **** **  


**4\. Ram is being irrational.**  
King pulls up next to him by the sink. “Ram.” He repeats his name until the younger properly looks at him. “Are you okay?” 

“I think so,” he replies, sounding honest. 

“You don’t seem like it,” King rationalizes, “You’re never this prideful or impulsive or risky. Is it because it’s Way?” His hands automatically move to dry the rinsed plates. 

Ram wipes the water left on his hands over his pants, and gently pats the senior on the head. “He doesn’t deserve to have his name spoken by you.” But that’s it. He retreated back to the bedroom, not answering his question.

For the rest of the day, he acts as if the conversation never happened. 

Tension lingered in the air, King frustrated with the younger for wanting to risk his safety, and Ram maintaining his more stoic, emotionless form, possibly a byproduct of his disagreement with the other’s perspective. The senior was and continues to be a bit confused, not having considered much of their conversation to be so emotional. And it wasn’t. It was a calm conversation between two adults, but he must have rubbed the younger the wrong way somehow. King can’t say that the feeling isn’t mutual; he doesn’t understand why he’s so insistent.

** **** **  


**5\. Donation posts saturate every social media platform he can spot.**  
When he first noticed the post on Sunday, a small collection asking to contribute to the non-refundable registration fee, he doesn’t think much of it. He showed it to Ram as a joke while they were eating. But he soon figures out that there are duplicates. An insane amount of them. 

The next day, he swears that every other post he sees is asking for money, and then raffling off the spots to view, the names that would go on the applications. 

“I knew this was going to happen,” Tee observes, “Way is really that powerful.”

King could not have anticipated this much money being thrown at the fight. His friend explained that the 1500 baht was a third, and in some cases even a quarter of the average ticket price. But for some people it was still a lot, so there they were splitting the costs. They, already having registered, don’t do it again, although he’s pretty sure they wouldn’t have involved themselves anyways (exploiting acquaintances is bad). 

Mek whistles at the posts and the comments trying to gather groups together, “If this is happening, that means there’s likely to be at least five, maybe more, times the people interested in watching.”

“And that’ll push the student council to consider the fight more,” King continues. He groans, holding his head in his hands. What the fuck? What’s so cool about sports?

His mental rant is soon interrupted. “Oh wow,” Bohn exclaims, “Rumors are flying around.”

Boss nods, “I mean, obviously; it’s a celebrity on campus.”

“No, beyond the school.” He shows them the article title.

 ** _Chang v. Vera: All YOU Need to Know About These Exotic Fighters._**

** **** **  


** 6\. Mainstream media gets involved. **

He cringes at the word choice. They’re objectifying him because of his race and it gives him the heebie jeebies.

The conversation continues during lunch, Bohn dragging all of his friends over to the medial department to eat with Duen and his group. 

“Where’s Ram?” King immediately asks.

“There was a small hoard of people standing in front of my and Ram’s class today,” Phu states, not at all surprised by the development, “And he ran away faster than I’d ever seen in my life.”

Appetite for food lost but engaged for information, the senior uses his phone and googles Ram Vera. His eyes don’t betray him; headline after headline shows up.

**_Rising Boxing Star to Host Charity Match At University._ **

**_Ram Vera, Wylan Chang’s Former Teammate, And His Fall From Glory_ **

**_RamWay And their Hot Feud On the Runway_ **

**_Who is Ram Vera and Why Is He Wylan Chang’s “Baby”?_ **

“People are going to start coming after us,” Duen voices, quietly picking at his sandwich, “It’ll be hard to avoid everyone, so I think it’s best to stick to another person.”

Surprised looks, consisting of confused eyes, open wide, appear on all of the senior’s faces. How would he know?

“It happened after his ejection. They’d come to Phu and me to extract any information they could.”

Not many of the articles reveal much about their relationship, save for when a former member of the Thai Boxing team, who claims that there was very likely something more than just friendship between the two of them, citing how close they were and their position as sparring partners. Objectively, they should be taken as mere assumptions, but fans, his friends included, were latching onto the narrative.

“I mean,” Mek observes, “They’re two fairly attractive guys with an obvious bond of trust. Not too much of a surprise.”

“But,” Boss adds, “If they’re still dating, it doesn’t make sense why they’re fighting.”

King looks at his friends. “Which is why everything is so confusing.”

The seniors hide the first years away in their core, surrounding them as best as they can.

While flipping through more articles, he sees nothing about the restraining order, however, nor where he lives, or any of the truly, messy legal details. Way’s family has refused to comment on the subject, but his PR team has confirmed it, which is terrifying. 

“I thought they couldn’t confirm anything until the number of applicants were counted,” Tang says. 

Mek shrugs. “We’ll see if the quota was met.”

** **** **  


**7\. The number of applicants (even with betting).**  
“Hello everyone,” Mind greets the rest of the seniors, “Today’s meeting isn’t a town hall, because,” she gestures out to the front door, where quite a few fans and some media outlets have crowded around the front door. Her hands cup her face as she yells, “Wylan Chang will not be here! Can you please not obstruct our only exit? You’re being a fire hazard.” Unfortunately, nobody moves. “Neither is Ram Vera!” No movement. 

King and his friends sit side by side, in the back, waiting for her to start the meeting.

“For the volunteer trip, I can confirm that we have enough people, and we actually have pushed ourselves out of debt.”

The atmosphere in the small room skyrockets when she projects the applications onto the wall from her laptop, an extra digit more than what anyone could have anticipated. “Holy shit,” Mek murmurs as he stares at the number, “Way might be an arrogant prick but he sure knows how to market himself. He’s a gofundme page on legs.” 

“The nonrefundable deposit is cheaper than going to a professional fight,” Tee observes.

Bohn nods. “And if you saw the number of people organizing to collect money and split it into applications was insane.” King’s baffled at the effort put into this. 

“Isn’t this beyond capacity?” someone asks from the front. 

“Definitely. I mean yes, we needed more participants but this volume.” The cursor frantically circles the four-digit number on her screen. “But I don’t think we can handle it. There’s not enough staffing or space and I don’t think even enough trees.”

The chattering gradually increases as everyone starts to put in their two cents, giving recommendations about what the major could do to resolve the issue. “I don’t think a lot of people want to go on a volunteer trip,” King states, hoping she hears him, “So it should sort itself out.”

“But it’s a long weekend,” Boss supplements. 

She hits the gavel down on the table a few times, trying to settle everyone down. “Guys!” she exclaims, “I appreciate the sentiment, but we have to do this in a more civil manner.”

Mind, being the good democratic leader she is, goes through everyone’s propositions, considering them equally. It takes a long time, but King can appreciate being heard. Eventually, she says that they’ll have enough money to upgrade their tents and food, but how they’re going to relegate who can go will be determined, prioritizing the seniors who need to accomplish their volunteer requirement and then filling in the spaces afterward. 

The meeting is dismissed, and everyone scatters. 

“You have math, right?” Bohn asks as they exit and attempt to dodge all of the media people.

King nods, but it would be a lecture without Ram. “I might ditch today.”

The expressions on all of his friend’s faces are priceless. “What?” King realizes he’s being a little suspicious, breaking the one thing he vowed never to do his freshman year, there are more important things than attendance. 

He doesn’t explain them at all. Instead, with two quick peace signs, the senior is running off to catch the next bus home.

** **** **  


**8\. Ram’s genuinely affected by it. (But he’s trying to hide that)**  
Even after their fight, tension lingers in the air, King frustrated with the younger for wanting to risk his safety, and Ram maintaining his more stoic, emotionless form, possibly a byproduct of his disagreement with the other’s perspective. The senior was and continues to be a bit confused, not having considered much of their conversation to be so emotional. And it wasn’t. It was a calm conversation between two adults, but he must have rubbed the younger the wrong way somehow. King can’t say that the feeling isn’t mutual; he doesn’t understand why he’s so insistent. 

But when he sees the younger slumped down on the couch when he returns, King takes a quiet seat next to him. This had been an impulsive decision, but he’s happy he made it. 

“Was there just too many people?” he asks. The younger man nods. 

“They didn’t figure out where we lived,” Ram supplements, gently patting his leg. His tone is already a dead giveaway, but if he scrutinizes his face more, King can spot the dribble of sadness and emptiness in his eyes. 

Until they have to eat or get up, King sticks his head onto his shoulder and rests his hand over his, hoping it’ll make him feel better. They aren’t often intimate, both fearing crossing the line, although it’s something that they definitely did a long time ago. Times like this are different. He’s observed that even when on an emotional high, Ram reacts oppositely, trying to suppress as much of them as he can. 

King falls asleep. The last night or two haven’t been treating him well, and he’s pretty sure it’s the same for Ram. Yet, this seems to be the perfect way for him to drift off to sleep. 

Delicious smells coax him awake from his four-hour nap. Ram has cooked his favorite meal of seasoned fish, ginger (King hadn’t even known there was any in their fridge), and a plate of greens. It’s simple, but somehow the flavors pop. 

“Is this an apology?” the senior asks. There’s nothing really for him to say he’s sorry for; they just have different opinions on the situation. 

Ram feeds into the joke a little bit and pinches his fingers close together, to say a little bit. It lightens the mood a bit. 

They finish their food up quietly, each man reading their own interests on their phone, only occasionally sharing things they think the other like. Ram does nudge him slightly when they brush their teeth and slightly allows for more head pats. It lets him rest easy for the rest of the evening, this slight return of normalcy.

** **** **  


**9\. Insomnia (still) consumes him.**  
With all the words of concern, King can’t lull himself to sleep. There’s too much to think about. In the pockets he has pushed himself into, his sleep isn’t very deep, clearly displayed by him waking up every other hour. He automatically reaches out for a portion of the blanket to cradle in his hands, or maybe a loose arm. 

He awakens once in the middle of the night to find the younger rustling awake. His eyes open a little bit, a detail the younger somehow notices. 

Why can’t he just avoid the fight? Ram, while pressing his pillow into his arms, says something indistinguishable and presses something soft to his cheek. (It might not be the right time to say this, but damn does he love it when the younger is soft like this; his heart soars in agreement).

When the morning comes and sees the empty spot on his bed, the first thing on King’s mind is to make amends. He’s not going to apologize, he resolves, but they need to do something about it. Like talk about it if Ram will let them have the chance. 

Something sweet tingles his nose; it’s not the body wash or shampoo either of them use. It’s familiar, but he can’t place it. Nothing particularly new appears on his phone, except a reminder to meet with Ohm later, and the student council meeting. He pushes his arms out, starfish style, to stretch. To his surprise, something firm brushes his fingertips. 

King sits up and finds a small roll of paper wrapped around a stem of hyacinths. The source of the sweet fragrance. Curiosity and confusion coat his mind, but the former eventually wins out and signals his hand to unroll the parchment. The scribbles aren’t clear, but undoubtedly Ram’s.

> _I’ll be gone for a few days. I left food in the fridge for you so you don’t only eat ramen.  
>  Don’t worry too much about me.  
>  _
> 
> _Ram_

** **** **  


** 10\. On Tuesday, Ram disappears. **  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so with this, i'm announcing updates are going to be moved to Wednesday because it's my freest time in the evening to just type. (oops also sorry for the cliffhanger,,, ram do like to run tho, but i wouldn't say he's necessarily running away from his problems y'know? he's a weird feller lo l)
> 
> uni is hard yall like,, freedom's cool but not when you live at home with your parents, you feel? adjustment period is probably gonna be forever l o l, but my updates shall slowly become more consistent again. 
> 
> i adore all of you; thanks for staying on this journey with me!!
> 
>   
>  (HAN (Han Jisung) of Stray Kids)


	21. when i feel like i've got you, you slip between my fingers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King is lost and Ohm reveals something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone! happy almost four-month anniversary of this story!!
> 
> i'm constantly so taken aback by how much growth this story has gotten and words can't explain how happy it makes me to see so many people enjoy my work.
> 
> also, honestly, updates will be in this same twelvish hour period (I'm sticking to this Wednesday/Thursday it's like late Wednesday to Thursday mornings for me, haha).
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos and comments and hits and just overall appreciation and such a wonderful atmosphere.

King’s always had this preconception that if anyone ever gave him flowers and a letter, it would be for a good thing, like a confession. But leave it to him to like someone who would do all that while simultaneously subverting his expectations. He doesn’t doubt Ram’s ability to have romantic intentions as all of his flirting and tender actions have indicated, but that’s just not his prerogative, at least for now. The younger has other things to prioritize. 

Emotions shoot through the senior, barely able to process what’s going on. First, there’s just disbelief because no Ram wouldn’t leave him. In his mental context, he’s seen the younger to be so happy and move so naturally in their shared space that there’s simply no reason for him to leave. Aspects of their lives have naturally blended into each other, painting everything theirs. 

Then, as he broadens out beyond him being the sole factor in his life (because of course, other things exist outside the microcosm of them), worry encompasses him. Yes, under normal circumstances, the junior wouldn’t leave, which means something serious must have happened. But if that’s the case, why hadn’t he told him. 

Frustration builds as he continuously questions himself, just why Ram wouldn’t even tell him. Well, to his credit, he had, which was in itself character growth, but King wishes he could understand the reasoning behind his sudden departure. 

In a very impulsive series of thoughts, he calls him, something he’s rarely done. He’d tried once or twice, just to have the call go to voicemail and his actions questioned in a text. But because nothing really makes sense today, Ram actually picks up. 

Instead of stringing out profanity or bursting into tears or giving him a fond greeting, or all of the above because that’s the clusterfuck of emotions that currently sit on his shoulders, like he so desperately wants, the senior levels himself. “Ram Vera,” he says, as steadily as he can, “What the actual fuck?”

The laugh on the other side is equally endearing and irritating. “You didn’t enjoy my letter?”

King does appreciate the sentiment and it warms his heart. His taunts are pleasant to the ear, making him calm down by being little, indirect reminder of his safety. But regardless of how attractive it makes the first year, it does nothing to lessen how angry he is.

“Don’t distract me,” he declares, “You really thought saying don’t worry would make me not worry?” And the flood of questions continues. “Where are you going? Is this because of him?” Then he pauses considering another, much sadder possibility. Does it make sense at all? No, but there it lingers.

“Is it because of me?”

“No, of course not,” Ram states, all signs of teasing leaving his voice, “You’ve been perfect. More than anyone can be. I can’t describe just how grateful I am for you.”

“Really?” he’s barely able to get out. 

“Of course, sweetheart.” He can imagine the soft smile on the other end of the receiver. “Now, can you take a couple of breaths for me?”

King does so, as per the younger’s request. Breathing exercises have never been his thing. While his body goes through the motions, he tries to focus on any background noises he can parse out, but there’s nothing really noticeable, nothing to tell him where he is. Just his voice, which does somewhat help to ground him. 

“Feel any better?” Ram asks.

“I think as much as I can be when someone,” he thinks about how to describe the younger. As he mulls, he reaches over to spin the flower stem slowly between his fingers. The petals are fresh and look suspiciously like the ones grown in the front of the apartment building, but he still appreciates the sentiment. It still smells pleasantly sweet, he concludes, bringing it closer to his nose. “Someone I care about,” he concludes, “decides to disappear on me.” The junior has the gall to laugh at that. “Why are you gone?”

“I’ll tell you when I get back,” he reassures, more softly, “It isn’t something I really want to discuss over the phone. Just don’t worry too much about me.”

He hopes he doesn’t sound especially pitiful with his reply. “I told you. I don’t think I can do that.”

The situation is disconcerting. Words can’t describe how much he trusts Ram, but it's understandable that he’s worried. King wants to know what’s so important that’s caused the younger to up and leave the apartment, and avoid classes altogether. “You have to get how weird this is,” he verbalizes. Is this how his friends felt?

“I’m sorry for making you feel this way,” Ram apologizes, “I’ll make it up to you.”

King nods against his phone. He just hopes he isn’t doing anything rash, and even if he is, just that he stays safe because he’s not sure what would happen if something happened to him. Hell, look at him now. eve-

“King?” The mention of his name stops his thoughts, at least temporarily, serving as a shot of clarity in his hazy concern.

“Okay,” he responds, “I don’t know how you will, but you better.”

“We’ll figure that out,” Ram reassures him, “Go water your plants or you’ll be late for class. And don’t forget about Victoria.”

The senior smiles a bit at the mention of his venus fly trap’s name. “Okay.”

Silence returns and they let it linger for a bit. King doesn’t want to be the first one to hang up, to end this tangible representation of their connection, and the weighty silence makes him think the feeling is mutual. There’s so much more that could be said, but it would be an endless feedback loop at this point, Ram unwilling to disclose all the details, and King stuck in his mindset of concern. (The rational side of him doesn’t doubt the junior but also reassures that it isn’t that deep. Just as his emotions attempt to inject meaning into every event around him).

Eventually, Ram is the first to finally say goodbye. Just as he’s wishing him a good day, King interjects because a thought just decides to formulate right then and there (is it his body saying that he doesn’t want Ram to hang up? Who knows at this point? Definitely not King). “I have a question.”

Ram hums in acknowledgment. “Do you know what hyacinths mean?”

“Sorrow,” he immediately replies, “an apology.”

King knows this, but his curiosity got the best of him. Ram would be one to think this out so thoroughly, which he appreciates. “I deserve more than this,” he teases.

“I agree,” the junior chuckles, but there’s something weird about it. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Okay,” he says, probably at a near whisper. He should probably just rip the inevitable off like a bandaid. “Stay safe.”

“Take care.” And Ram finally hangs up.

** **** **  


The moments after the call are okay at first, especially as he waters his plants. His brain flies into autopilot as he gives every child the water they need and a small bit of chatter. He wonders if they notice the younger’s absence. Things exacerbate when he walks by Victoria and the little trinkets around her. Three small dog figurines sit next to it, faces in an eternal smile. He remembers Ram telling him they were huskies, much like his own canines. King had been a bit iffy with their presence, a bit uncomfortable with their faces. The younger said he could move them, but after a lot of convincing, the senior stated that he’d get used to them with time.

In the beginning, he adamantly ignored them, but after pushing himself to take small glances at them, they don’t make his heart jump or trigger his flight reflexes. He admits that he wouldn’t go out of his way to interact with a dog, but he won’t flinch at the sight of one. 

But as soon as he’s away from his green comforts, that’s when things start feeling very off.

King speeds through his morning routine, not having the familiar distractions of a shirtless Ram and a sprinkle of flirtatious teasing. He notices that the younger’s toothbrush and other necessary toiletries have disappeared. As he changes, he also sees that some of his own clothes have been taken. It isn’t as if they’ve already split their wardrobe, Ram going so far as insisting some of the articles were King’s to keep, which caused him to do the same, but the senior has a vague sense of what was once solely his. It’s a bittersweet feeling. 

And then there was no delicious smell to greet him in the living room.

To his credit, he does try to normalize the situation. He stands in his kitchen, waiting for the toast to finish. His eyes linger on the display at the edge of the counter, the most Ram part of the home besides the man himself. Victoria thrives well in the well-lit spot. As he fixates on the little corner, he notices that the dog tags have disappeared. Ram had probably taken them. It just adds to the mystery of what he’s doing. The ding of the toaster brings him back to reality. 

After spreading some jam and butter onto it, he takes his regular seat at the dining table. As warm as the sun shines from the window, the atmosphere is off, nowhere as warm as it typically is. There’s no other person sitting in front of him for him to show stupid memes to or asking him questions about his physics homework. He caves; King can’t stand how the space feels and wants to exit as fast as he possibly can. He sits on his couch and attempts to preoccupy his brain with his phone until it’s time for him to actually leave.

But unfortunately, the bus is no different. The driver looks at him inquisitively, now that he’s suddenly appeared without his usual companion, and King can’t bring himself to respond in any way. He puts his backpack next to him, to fill the empty space, but its height is incomparable to the headrest he’s become so accustomed to. When he tries the window, the vibrations shake his head, forcing him to maintain consciousness. Having both AirPods in his ears enhances his typical, one-way audio experience, but DogPlant isn’t the same without Ram. 

The senior slowly walks onto campus, not able to understand the younger’s departure. 

When he finally ends up at the bench, he’s first for once. King unceremoniously plops himself down on the table, and finally gives himself the chance to scroll through his morning fill of plant blogs. He cradles his head in his arm, facing away from the flow of students entering the plaza. 

Just as he’s moving onto the next article, an arm rests on his shoulder and someone pulls an AirPod out of his ear. “You okay?” He hears his best friend ask, “You’re never here this early.” The spot next to him creaks slightly as Bohn takes a seat.

King waves him off, grumbling, “It’s been a weird morning.”

Turning back around, he quietly watches Bohn pull out his packet of practice questions for their quiz today. Instinctively, King points out each concept and explains what each does. Luckily, the concepts take his mind off a specific man’s absence. He hasn’t thrown himself so deeply into academics for a while, probably since Ram inserted himself in his life. It doesn’t draw much from his GPA, maximum a tenth, but it’s not very concerning as a senior who’s maintained perfection for so long. Mistakes are meant to be made sometimes; it grows character.

While he’s waiting for Bohn to finish up the last question on the page, the senior’s phone vibrates. After quickly sticking his phone in front of his face so it’ll unlock, he finds a text from Duen.

 **Private Chat between dune and bone**  
_08:22_

“That’s kind of cute,” King can’t help but comment. Before Bohn can take his phone back, he reads the text.

 **dune**  
the fight’s been confirmed  
phu said he heard some faculty talk about it

“What the hell?” 

Bohn swipes his phone back, shock evident on his face as well. “But why?”

It’s been less than a day. “Have the registrations even been counted?’

He watches Bohn type away to his boyfriend. King attempts to peak over his shoulder, but he’s shoved away too quickly to actually see anything.

“Not from what he heard,” Bohn relays, “but Ram pretty much said it didn’t matter. He was so sure it would, and decided just to accept.”

King, very much in denial, covers the phone screen, but it isn’t like he can say that Way wouldn’t have accrued enough support. The student council meeting already proved that. But also comes from a man who knows nothing about professional boxing. 

“We should talk to Duen and the others later,” he concludes. 

Bohn’s eyes squint in somewhat suspicion. “Why?”

“Aren’t you curious?” he reasons.

His best friend nods. “Of course, but I’m not sure if that’s really our jurisdiction to ask.”

And it’s King’s turn to be confused. “What do you mean?”

“As much as I don’t like Ram,” he prefaces, “This seems to be a lot more personal than just a fistfight.”

“I think that was clear when Way decided to call him baby.”

“Exactly,” Bohn continues, “Which is why I don’t think we should be one of those people to sensationalize it. There’s some serious stuff going on in the background, and for us, I don’t think it’s just gossip.”

“But,” King stutters, “That’s not my intention, Bohn. I just want to know what’s going on.”

“As does every other person on campus and far beyond,” his best friend replies, “But what I’m trying to say is that we’re a degree too far for us to really comfortably ask about what’s going on. None of us are really close to Ram, so it’s not like we have to know what’s going on.”

King would beg to differ in his case, but nobody knows about the details of their relationship, whatever it be, and he can’t reveal that arbitrarily. He doesn’t know how to convey that, but something about his demeanor is somehow enough.

“You’re concerned for Ram,” Bohn states, seeming to have just realized the situation, “I didn’t know you were in this deep, but it’s just not something I’m comfortable asking Duen about, you know?” King knows his gaze is defiant, emanating a lack of understanding, but yes, he does get it. It’s more of a private matter for Ram and his friends. “If he tells me anything, I’ll make sure to relay it to you,” he concludes, features turned soft on his face, “But lunch right now is a no.”

He nods at his best friend. “The couple life has matured you,” he jokes, “I’m thoroughly impressed.”

Bohn rolls his wrist and bows dramatically. “Thank you,” he says a few times, “It’s been a great time.”

The other boys arrive, and Bohn shares the news with them, but to them, it’s nothing more than news. Mek shoots him a look of slight concern while he’s attempting to help Boss and Tee study, but King sends him a thumbs up like there’s nothing to worry about. (A bit meta considering that’s all that’s really happening in his head.)

** **** **  


While he’s at the workshop putting the finishing touches on his and Ohm’s contraption, he takes a brief break to text his friends. It’s the first time that they’ve seen each other since the fashion show, and something’s different about the second year. When he first arrived, Ohm hadn’t dropped a cheesy pickup line, which he already found to be really fucking out of place for him, but he had more important things to think about. Similarly to how he helped Bohn, he tried to let all his thoughts be buried under work. Too much has happened today (maybe not enough with Ram’s absence).

On a break he considers necessary, he sends a text out to his friends.

 **gofundme.com/get-king-a-boyfriend (5)**  
_11:05_

 **plant baby**  
let’s go drinking

 **wifey**  
Why not wait until after class is done

 **plant baby**  
idk lolol

 **tee-knee**  
it’s only tuesday

 **plant baby**  
that’s never stopped y’all before

 **bohned**  
while that’s true  
just say you’re stressed idiot

He doesn’t give a shit at this point. Why not be completely honest?

 **plant baby**  
i’m stressed  
p l s drink with me

 **hubby**  
it’s probably bad that i’m encouraging you  
but i am also down

 **plant baby**  
YES

 **hubby**  
but alcohol isn’t the answer  
and probs won’t help your mood

 **plant baby**  
HYPOCRITE  
How many times have I said that to yoU  
And YOU didn’t listen to me?

 **tee-knee**  
lol is it because the fight was confirmed?

This was new. Even as he was working with Ohm, the younger hadn’t mentioned anything about it, and honestly, King had been grateful because at any of those buzz words, his attention redirects itself to the Ram and Way fight and he worries about the potential outcomes, a spiral that’s so hard to get out of.

 **plant baby**  
excuse me wHat

Tee sends a screenshot of an email Mind seemed to have sent a few hours prior. He should really keep his notifications on. There’s a formal introduction, a bunch of fluff, before it gets to the meat of the email. She acknowledges the major’s commonly known financial struggles, the incident at the fashion show, and the amount of money collected as a result. Bolded, she writes, **“the Chang v. Vera fight has been approved by the school board,”** and then continues about how to acquire tickets. It was one thing to hear rumors, but now it was official.

 **plant baby**  
The school board approved of this  
it’s super weird, right?

 **bohned**  
I think as much as we want to think so, we’re biased  
It’s a lot of good PR for the school  
Especially if Ram can put up a fight against him.

 **wifey**  
We’re not just STEM nerds  
wE hAVe cHaRAcTeR

To be honest, such advertising isn’t necessarily wrong. Many of the engineering students, regardless of their concentration, have a genuine aptitude and interest to learn more. However Ram’s innately different

 **hubby**  
Ram’s obviously not just a STEM nerd  
He's a former pro boxer

“Hey!” Ohm exclaims. He lightly hits his arm with the wrench he’s using. “Get back to work.” 

“Your brother got what he wanted,” he says abruptly, turning around to face him. He grips the phone in his hand a bit tighter, arms braced against the table. 

The younger stares at him, somewhat apologetically. “I saw. Is he okay?”King shrugs. “He wasn’t in lab today,” he observes. 

The senior nods. It’s not unexpected, but it’s an unnecessary reminder. “I’m not sure.” The silence between them is tense, but it’s uncomfortable, completely opposite 

Ohm looks him up and down, concern clear in his expression. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

The second-year laughs. “I don’t know, there’s this guy you very obviously care about, like don’t even try to deny it P’, it’s ridiculous.” And he doesn’t, which seems to obviously surprise the younger. “Oh, are you actually accepting your feelings? Good for you.” He leans over to pat his head, a gesture King moves away from. “And this guy,” he continues, “is fighting his ex, and I doubt that’s a nice feeling.” 

King solemnly nods at his words. “Sure.”

Ohm pouts. “I mean it’s kind of why I’m backing off.”

The senior’s eyebrows furrow together, not completely understanding what he’s trying to say. “What?” he verbalizes. 

He sighs, stretching his arms up. “I, Ohm Chulanont, have given up on courting your dumb ass because I value my life and I’m a stupid romantic. I know he wants to shove me off the ends of the earth, and me being related to Way isn’t doing me any favors. And I kind of just can’t compete with that genuine of a connection.”

“You were serious this whole time?” he gawks, “I thought you were just being flirty like everyone says.”

Ohm scoffs. “I mean it was at first; I liked poking fun at you and by proxy Ram. But then you weren’t treating me with incompetence like every other group I’ve worked with. Then I kind of saw you with plants and how soft you looked and my heart went bad dum. And I liked the way you laughed at my bad pickup lines. It made me want to take care of you more when you were tired, which is why instant coffee? And here we are.”

King has barely processed the confession. “I’m sorry if I lead you on.”

He laughs. “No, it’s not your fault. Well, you have a part in it, but it’s not like you’re to blame. You just don’t understand your emotions. I thought the two of you were just roommates and Ram was haplessly pining over you, but after the fashion show, the way you didn’t stare at him with a shell shocked expression and you immediately looked at him as he was being dragged away, I realized it was mutual. I never knew eyes were such a viable way of communication.”

He hadn’t even realized that Ohm saw that. “I’m really sorry,” he repeats.

Ohm smiles, but the expression doesn’t completely reach his eyes. “Stop. There’s no use apologizing for things you can’t control.” He steps away and waves towards their prototype. “Now let's finish this up.”

** **** **  


King tells his friends what happens as they’re drinking in Bohn’s apartment. His best friend strongly advised against actually going out, because they didn’t need to waste the effort of getting ready, the drinks were too expensive, and everyone could see that their friend’s predominant objective was to get shitfaced drunk. That’s pretty much where he was. 

After getting up and checking his reflection in the mirror, he was as red as red could be. 

“Who knew Ohm Chulanont had a romantic bone in his body?” Mek comments. King stumbles back to the couch, steadied by the person near him. He collapses into Bohn’s side, clinging onto the man’s arm for his dear life, nods against his shoulder. 

“I feel bad though.”

“Don’t be,” Boss says from his spot, head atop Mek’s lap, “He just didn’t catch the signs.”

Tee raises his cup up from the floor next to him, legs atop Boss’s. “We didn’t either.”

King groans into his side. “But still.”

Bohn brushes his hair gently. “You’re sleeping here for the night. Nonnegotiable.”

“Oookay,” he groans, “Thank you, guys.”

There’s a few sounds of air that sound suspiciously like laughter. “That’s the eighth time you’ve said that tonight.” He thinks that’s Boss.

King slaps Bohn’s leg haphazardly. His fingers barely brush off the muscle’s side because he so desperately lacks coordination. “Let me love you.”

“And that’s the fifth time.” Probably Tee. 

Bohn (he can tell because he’s so much closer) pats his shoulder lightly. “You know getting drunk fucks your anxiety up and just makes you sadder.”

“Shut up.” He hates that Bohn’s right. He hates that he’s wrong because he’d done this maybe to forget, but he just can’t stomach much more alcohol; the thoughts are still there but at least now he’s tired. He wishes that it was Ram, not Bohn, holding him so comfortingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week's update might come late because i have an exam and my brain might be fried come Wednesday l o l. 
> 
> i really appreciate yall who have hmu on tumblr although i'm not at all, active there. i eventually get to your messages lol i pRomiSe hehe
> 
> stream [the boyz's the stealer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c_e-IC0VwZM) because haha yes it's also the chapter title because haha i'm whipped for my ults. but also ngl [la di da by everglow](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jeI992mvlEY) is also a total banger. hehehe thanks yall who have gotten this far!! 
> 
>   
>  (Lee Taeyong of NCT U and NCT 127)


	22. can't do anything because of you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the king sad hours continue, polarizing in both directions, but more on the negative side. featuring a supportive community

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyo!! I hope everyone is safe and well. 
> 
> This week has been hella weird because I broke out into hives (if y'all don't know what it is, it felt like I had a bunch of mosquito bites all over my body and each spot was like a lil red rash) and I still don't know why ;-; so we're going through that s t i l l
> 
> my exam? chaotic. but it's a figment of the past. 
> 
> so overall, with these circumstances, the chapter isn't the best, and definitely teetering more towards filler, and is a little bit smaller than i would like,,,, all on top of being late ;-; apologies
> 
> but i do hope you enjoy!! also i still can't believe how many readers there are because those hits constantly appreciate, and i also can't not appreciate all of you for reading! thank you!!1

His friends are, understandably, worried for King. Even as loopy as he can get when drunk, they tell him time and time again that they still know nothing about what’s up with him because somehow, by some unknown miracle, he’s successfully contained it all. He’s totally surprised by that, but there’s no use in questioning it.

After passing out at Bohn’s place, he decided that he should probably just contain his drinking at home, although that’d just form a negative association with his safe space, the practical voice in his mind tells him, but also. That’s a sacrifice he’s (sort of) willing to make. 

So with his anxiety peaking, irrationality picks at his brain, and not even just about Ram and how he probably didn’t leave because of him (but what if, if he did?) but that his friends are also starting to become aversive towards him.

He likes to think he can read people very well; it is how he began to slowly understand the junior. However, heightened with anxiety, stress-inducing cortisol, and adrenaline putting him on edge constantly, his filter that gauges value overheats and breaks down. Mixed with worries that he’s constantly bothering his friends, he’s a questioning machine, constantly wondering if he should stop what he’s doing although he really doesn’t want to. 

He counted the number of containers in the fridge and freezer. There’s a stupid amount of variety, and he just wonders how Ram Vera exists. If he eats at least three meals a day, the younger will be gone for about four days. If it’s the typical two and a half, then it’ll be closer to five. (There’s a thought in his brain that maybe, if he finishes the food early, that Ram would come back early. That isn’t how things pan out). 

Regardless of the span, King can’t stand how his apartment feels. 

Later into the week, after a few days of the senior’s personality obviously muted and demeanor different, his friends had somehow convinced the security guard to go up and check on him. 

“He said you were lying down on your side, staring at your fridge,” Bohn would relay, “A half-empty six-pack next to your body.”

His best friend has been calming him down during this period, holding him tightly and constantly reassuring him that nothing’s wrong and that he and the rest of their friends don’t mind keeping him company. So whenever school ends, they forcibly relocate him to his apartment for the time being. Bohn offers to take him back to his place in the mornings so he can water his plants and wash up. King voices his concerns about their homes being in two different directions but the other senior isn’t having any of his excuses. His friends do stare at him questioningly whenever he brings four containers of pre-prepared food. He does end up sharing some of it, and hearing their compliments somehow gives him a sense of satisfaction.

King’s pretty secure in his relationship with his best friend, but the three others, he isn’t sure as sure which might be kind of sad considering how close they’ve become in the past three and a half years. His brain wonders if Bohn is coercing them into agreeing with him and it’s breaking him apart. 

On the other hand, he knows he’s overthinking it all. Mek is there to hold him when Bohn has to go do some errands or meet with Duen. Boss tries to up his spirits with funny TikToks and YouTube videos. And Tee tries to keep him in the loop of what’s happening at school. Mind is trying to set a date for the fight, and it looks like it’ll be the week after their volunteer trip. With that already coming up for next week, and King being one of the peripheral coordinators because yes graduate school resumes, King’s way too over his head, especially with this brain game running in his head. 

Even with responsibility looming over his head, the thoughts are hard to dig himself out of.

A few days later and King has stayed his third (or is it fourth) night at Bohn’s place. He’s thoroughly enjoying the weird nest of blankets and pillows he’s made for himself on the living room floor. He lays there and attempts to recall what happened, but he realizes it’s not worth it. Bohn has hidden all the alcohol in his apartment or given it away. He’s not sure. Nonetheless, he feels stuck. 

After wrestling with himself for a few moments, King forces himself to sit upright, which also allows a shot of awakeness to course through his body. He pads towards Bohn’s room, pushing his ear up to the door. No sounds leak out of it, but again it’s also a pretty thick piece of wood. 

Uninvited, he twists the knob and allows himself in. Even with the light dampened by the curtains, he sees Bohn’s sleeping figure. Instead of awakening him, he decides to use the bathroom and freshen himself up. 

But nothing can prepare him for the frazzled, mess of a man that meets his eyes. Okay, yes, bed hair is normal for King; his hair likes to do gymnastics after a good amount of sleep. But this? The all too shiny layer of oil on his face probably because he couldn’t properly wash his face, or more likely, hadn’t been able to do it at all. His eyes are bloodshot, although the senior isn’t sure for what reason because he felt like he had slept really well. There’s definitely a pimple starting along his jawline, which is going to be such a pain to deal with. And overall, he just feels icky.

The shower helps a little, the warm water soothing his worries. He checks his phone again as he’s dried off, just to find an email from Mind. The subject: Chang v. Vera Details

After opening it, all King can see is the date being confirmed (the Friday they come back) and the venue (a smaller hall nearby) and he thinks everything is about to collapse upon him. It’s the same day his grad school applications are going to be due, and yes he’s done almost all of them, he hasn’t workshopped them enough. Well, he did deem them complete about a week ago, but in this mindset, he wonders if he missed something.

His fingers link together as he stretches his bodies in different directions, savoring the small strain it puts against his body. He cracks his fingers, starting from the index finger, middle finger, ring finger, and pinky finger. Twists his wrist a little. Shakes his fingers. 

King makes the mistake of looking up at himself. His brain wracks through all of the issues he’d seen before, the imperfections in his face. 

Why couldn’t everything be okay?

His hands wrap into small fists, supporting him against the counter as he thinks about the possibility of him being rejected by every program for having a less than perfect application, wondering why he can’t concentrate in class if they’re so critical to his grades and reputation. If he’s just a burden to his friends, and why they’re still with him. Whether or not Ram saw that and if he’ll tell his friends that and Duen will tell Bohn and he’ll lose all of his social family?

There are a few, firm raps of the door behind him. Gradually, he hears the calls of his name.

“King,” Bohn repeats, “Are you good?”

He leans back away and stares down at his hands, spread open. He flips them back and forth a few times and nods to himself, maybe a sad means of convincing himself that yes, he is alright.

Bohn seems to think otherwise, the moment the bathroom door is opened. His eyes survey him up and down. “Please tell me what’s going on.”

The parallels are all too similar to him and Ram. And now, it’s a matter of whether or not he’s willing to open up about it. 

“You weren’t even this bad in high school while we were applying for university,” he observes. “I mean I’m not sure if you would’ve turned to drinking since we weren’t legal because even then you could never keep your alcohol down and-”

“It isn’t my story to tell,” King admits.

Bohn sighs. “Is it because of Ram?”

Panic settles in his bones. Because, yes he’s right. What if he knows that’s where the food’s been coming from, that they’ve been together for so long, and that there’s all this context behind him.

There’s a slight fondness in his expression. “Your expression when you saw those pictures,” he explains.

Yesterday, Bohn had somehow gotten his hands on the final versions of proofs from the fashion show. The pictures hadn’t been sorted by model, so King and the rest of his friends sat on Bohn’s couch, scrolling through the slideshow. Everyone looked undeniably good. King jokingly said he wished that Mind could step on him, which earned him a chorus of agreement. The bright tones weren’t very favorable to anyone if everyone’s reactions said anything. 

“Thara tho,” Mek whistled, “I can’t believe Duen chose you over that business bro.”

Nobody knew what to say, because yes, Mek did usually thirst over any man with an absurdly attractive face (King can be cited as somewhat guilty of the same) but it’s the “business bro” label that separates it from the rest. Boss didn’t even try to block Bohn’s angry tackle. 

The pictures kept passing by, and he saw Ram. And that godforsaken gap in his shoulder holy shit. With the large tattoo piece perfectly framed. It’s. It’s a lot for his poor sad, missing Ram brain. 

“Nah, look at him,” he waved his leg up, pointing it excitedly, “That’s a really hot man.” He appreciated everyone’s surprise, and for the first time in the last couple of days, he genuinely smiled. They’d taken a good shit out of teasing him. 

His favorite was a candid picture of the two of them while they were changing for the first round of clothes. King was trying to button up his dark green shirt while trying to tuck it into his eggplant pants. Ram was standing in front of him, already dressed in his bright red long coat, dark turtleneck, and bright yellow pants. The senior remembered complaining of not being monochromic like Way, but then actually saw his outfit and shut up. 

He was holding a silver necklace in one hand and a pair of earrings in the other. Around his neck was the shoulder bag he was supposed to be wearing. He hadn’t even considered the moment romantic at the time. He’s just used to Ram helping him things like this. But it was what caused the largest reaction out of all his friends. 

Long story short, he’s whipped, his friends know he’s whipped. Which, now that he thinks about it, makes much more sense. 

“King, I know you like him,” his best friend continues, “But I’m just worried that you’re like this. What has you so stressed?” He gestures at his stance, his person. King’s not really sure what he’s pointing at, but whatever it is, he knows it proves his point. He even feels like shit. “I haven’t seen you so high strung, and I think you know this. The alcohol does loosen you up but in the worst way possible.”

He blinks up at his friend. “I think I’ll go back to my apartment,” he states, pushing past his best friend.

Bohn grabs his arm and immediately tries to reason with him. “You can stay. I don’t mind.”

“It’s the perception,” King replies. He hasn’t said that in a long time and the dejavu, the negative feeling of it all is off-putting, “That I feel like I’m a burden.” He turns around to face his best friend, and concedes with a bittersweet smile, “I know you don’t mind but I also don’t if that makes sense. There’s just a lot going on right now, and I think I’d feel better mulling in my thoughts alone.”

Bohn still seems unconvinced, and understandably so. “I’m just worried about you.”

“I’ll try to reply to your texts in a timely manner,” he promises, “I won’t go off the grid or anything.”

The other senior continues to search him, mentally. “Is this meant to be a weird Ram related joke?”

King flops backward onto the bed. “Maybe.” It wasn’t, but now that he mentions it, he can’t stop thinking about how applicable that is.

** **** **  


By the next day, in order to get Bohn to stop worrying, King opts to throw all of his efforts into schoolwork. When he asks Ohm to meet him at the workshop, the younger is obviously surprised but does as he’s asked.

“P,” Ohm begins. King looks up from the laptop he’s drafting their report on, “I think we’re done!”

He takes his laptop and runs the code they’ve written. Their contraption works as well as it can, being something meant to shoot a ball into a goal as accurately as possible. He changes the values a few times to accommodate for where the rod sits against the ball and adjusts for angles and the pressure of the pneumatic. 

“I don’t mind finishing this up,” he relents, pointing at the pages he’s already constructed.

The second-year jumps excitedly. “Let’s go celebrate with some food! I’ll buy.”

He checks the time in the corner of his screen. It’s just past eleven-thirty, but he also ran out of food during lunch today. “Are there any places still open?”

Ohm nods, “There’s a cart I want to eat at if you’re down to join me.”

He considers the prospect. His phone buzzes under his hand, and it’s a slew of texts from Bohn and the rest of his friends. At that moment, the senior resolves that maybe he should be doing something independent from them and that he should get out of his five-person typical environment.

So he lets the second year lead the way towards a place he’s honestly never seen before. King lets Ohm order, citing that he didn’t really have any food preferences and quietly watched as the notifications started to pop on his phone. 

“Popular,” Ohm jokes, bringing their food back. King flips his phone upside down and nods in slight acknowledgment. 

“I wasn’t able to get on the volunteer trip,” he pouts. 

“Really?” He’d looked so excited to attend, and after telling him it was a rolling admission kind of thing, King thought it would’ve spurred him into action. The younger had agreed to fill out the forms before things really escalated. 

“I did everything you asked,” Ohm nods. “But I didn’t enter the raffle. You know,” he gesticulates towards King, “Out of respect and everything, but I guess that put a bunch of people in front of me.”

King can’t help but chuckle, “That’s capitalism for you. But I don’t think you’re really missing out on planting trees.” They sit in silence for a bit, until, expectedly, Ohm is the one to invite the conversation.

“Do you know what’s up with Ram?”

“Didn’t you ask me a few days ago?”

He nods. “I just wanted to know if he’s okay.”

King shrugs. “I really don’t know.”

“Are you okay?”

The senior laughs. “Is it really that obvious?”

Ohm shakes his head. “Not super, but I mean you asked me to work with you on a Friday and you’re usually keener on working during the weekend.”

“Maybe I just wanted to get the project done,” he answers. But the younger isn’t buying it. “I’m pretty sure it’s past midnight,” he deflects, “So now, it’s technically Saturday.”

“And you’ve been more distant than usual. Your smiles don’t reach your eyes, and you’re just quieter and it feels wrong.”

King pokes at his noodles. “So it is obvious?”

Ohm balks, realizing how he’d just contradicted himself and trying to cover up his mistake says, “Well-”

Before he can even try to explain himself someone approaches them, looking like they’re on their way to the club. Their shirts are unbuttoned low, intended to showcase their toned chests, and hair gelled back, revealing not at all bad-looking faces. It’s a Friday night, he can acknowledge that, and honestly, it’s been a while since he’s gone out. But there’s no buffer of protection for him and he also doesn’t want to bother his friends. As nice as Ohm is, it’s probably a bit weird to ask him to go dance it out in their uniforms. 

He quietly watches him and his two friends take some of the free seats at their table.

“Hello,” the second year greets, maybe all too politely. 

“Ohm,” the man says, “I didn’t see you there.”

“Sure, Can,” he murmurs dismissively, “What do you want?”

“Aww is wittle Ohm sensitive,” he laughs, taking a piece of meat off his plate. 

King scoffs at his behavior. The sound causes Can to look at him, interest clear in his expression; his gaze rakes him up and down. “Who are you?”

“Fourth-year engineering student,” he vaguely replies, “King.”

Can extends a hand to him. “Third-year mathematics student, Can.” When he shakes it, the younger pulls his hand towards him for a kiss. King immediately pulls away. 

“What the fuck?” he exclaims.

The third-year smiles. “Of course a pretty thing like you has some spark.”

While King loves a good comment, not from scummy students that seem to belittle his friend. The senior’s face wrinkles in disgust. “If you truly think you’ll get this ass because of some backhanded compliment at my personality, then you,” he pokes his chest, “Are wrong.”

“Wanna pregame with us?”

He ignores the offer and returns to the food in front of him. From his peripheral vision, Ohm looks incredibly satisfied at his reaction. King thinks that’s the end of it, and that there’s no more to be discussed, until he feels a warm, very much unwelcome hand resting on his knee. 

“You giving up?” A squeeze to his leg. 

He’s about to say something, maybe even throw a punch, but he doesn’t get the chance. Ohm stands up and pulls him quickly away. “Leave him alone dude. He’s obviously uncomfortable.”

Can seems irritated by these actions, if him, almost too comically, standing up and staring down at him indicates enough. King’s relieved to no longer have an unwelcome limb on his leg, but he worries if that meant other, more serious consequences would occur.

“Ohm’s out here protecting his boy toy isn’t he?” The man turns towards the still sitting King. “I could treat you better, sweetheart.”

If you were to ask him, King doesn’t think he would be able to tell you why, but the nickname is the last straw for him. Maybe it’s the tinge of fear in Ohm’s eyes. Maybe it’s because his whole week has been the purest form of missing Ram hours, and that the nickname has only come out of his mouth and he would like to keep it that way. Maybe it’s because he has no idea what’s going on anymore. But at the impact, the senior can’t help but think it’s the best decision he’s made all day, ignoring the pain that shoots up his fingers. 

So he throws the punch. 

His eyes meet the second year’s, but there’s nothing they can do. Part of him wishes he was drunk so he could blame the alcohol for his poor decision making. All he can feel is that he’s falling, his vision darkening. There are flashes of white behind his eyelids. 

The last thing he hears is Ohm’s insistent yells.

(The one time he thinks leaving comfort is a good idea)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, again, a schedule? will probs not be as consistent for the next few months because of school. 
> 
> also,, the blackpink album was surprisingly all around very good. yeah,, all around very good. same with the superm album. 
> 
> i gotta go catch a postman tomorrow morning because i'm worried i didn't seal my envelopes properly and i really don't wanna risk anything happening to these pc trades (and the stress is probs lowkey giving me more hives)
> 
> okayokay, enough of the tmi. hmu on tumblr or twitter: [@hxt_pxckets](https://twitter.com/hxt_pxckets) or insta: [@hxt_pxckts](https://www.instagram.com/hxt_pxckts/)
> 
> thank you if you read this far haha!!
> 
>   
>  (Koo Jungmo of Cravity)


	23. follow the star that looks like you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so, what's happened to king? find out today  
> and ram? that gets answered, too.
> 
> the soft hours have returned :> ft. our favorite doctor man with a lizard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> henlo humans, i'm back!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR SUPPORTIVE COMMENTS they done did help me during these weird tiempos 🥺🥺 👁👄👁
> 
> btw my brother said hello lgbtq+ community
> 
> i know it's been two weeks but with midterms compounded on top, everything's advertently been diverted for which i apologize.
> 
> my over 18 usa humans pls [register to vote](https://www.vote.org/register-to-vote/) if you still can, and go vote because orange man bad. 
> 
> this is unbetaed and being uploaded at a time where my circadian rhythm would like to be the not active,, (i ended up caving and falling asleep which is why this is being updated at 9 in the morning l o l) [ o o p it turned into noon]
> 
> also thank you for helping me surpass 7000 hits, and nearing 300 kudoses for this story. I appreciate all of you and work to release the best quality work i can (if things are late, it's probably because i'm reworking, haha) nonetheless, much thank and i hope you enjoy.

King sits up from the bed with the worst headache he’s ever had. His head throbs and vision goes fuzzy as all of the blood rushes up. Typically, open windows and the prospect of bright light are never the best combinations, but with outside being grey and gloomy, it’s not as bad. However, this isn’t a hangover headache; he would feel extra grimey if it was. The current pain feels more like thousands of needles are poking at his brain. He moves to instinctively push his hair back but forcibly retreats when one of his fingers brushes against what feels like a bundle of cotton. 

Slowly, the senior gains a better sense of his surroundings. The realization should’ve come to him the moment his palms rubbed against the blankets spread over his body, but it's only now that he realizes that he has not returned to his room. And he’s definitely not wearing the same clothes from the day before. There’s nothing particularly familiar, some movie posters, a dry erase calendars, and a lab coat hanging behind the door. 

But how the fuck did he get here? 

When his eyes land on the large terrarium sitting on a chest of drawers, curiosity gets the best of him, and he stands in front of it. It’s well maintained, glass clear, the variety of plants well taken for, and food abundant. Does he think it’s excessive for a medium-sized lizard? Definitely, but it’s quite peaceful watching the animal skitter up and down its large climbing branch, sometimes taking notice of the finger King’s pressed along the surface. 

“I see you’ve met Cupcake,” a somewhat familiar voice greets. He turns around to be greeted by the man who served as the referee of Ram and Bohn’s boxing match. The doctor who was really into Frong. And Duen’s cousin.

“P’Taro,” he says somewhat tentatively. The expression on the elder’s face immediately tells him he’s wrong. 

“Thara,” he corrects, “But you were close.” 

“Okay, P’Thara,” King repeats, “How did I get here?”

“Do you remember anything?” He shakes his head. The doctor leans against the doorframe, stuck in thought. “I was out getting food when I saw a student standing by you looking really worried. He had a phone to his ear, screaming that it wasn’t his fault and that he needed help, but whoever was on the other side of that call was being a dick and was refusing to do anything. I asked him if he was going to call an ambulance once he was done with his call. I told him not to because I didn’t want to put the financial burden on you if you couldn’t handle it. Lord knows I can’t.” he laughs to himself. 

King nods. It wouldn't have been a problem but he appreciates the sentiment.

“I told the guy to help me take you back to my place,” he gestures at their surroundings. “I just so happen to live right across from the street stall, so it worked out. Poor kid was worried out of his mind, but once I pointed at my diploma and pulled out the stitching supplies, he seemed to be okay.”

The senior’s hands fly to his head.

“I wouldn’t advise that.”

King pads around to the closest mirror and spots the bruise that graces his cheekbone as well as the small cut near the corner of his eye. (That’s why it stung whenever he blinked). Then he turns around, grabs the hand mirror on the vanity, and scrutinizes the injury. When he tilts his head down, he finds the small puffs of cotton, slightly tinged red, stuck atop his head. 

“You were really out,” Thara narrates, “Didn’t even budge when I gave you the stitches.”

The senior takes a few breaths trying to process the situation in his entirety, but there are some details he can’t recall. “Who was with me?”

“Kind of short, but well built. Carried a skateboard under his arm. I’ll probably ask him out some time.”

King ignores that last part and the elder man’s sad scheme to disregard his feelings for one (1) business senior. He should probably tell Ohm he’s okay. “Where are my belongings?”

Thara pokes next to the bed. He turns around and finds his clothes nicely folded with shoulder bag and phone on top. King practically dives for the device. Before he can properly turn it on, the elder man calls for him. 

“Come out,” he waves, “You have a visitor.”

The senior doesn’t immediately respond, focused more on waiting for his phone to restart. Thara isn’t having his shit and comes in, takes him by the arm, and drags him into the living room. He’s about to retort, saying something about letting him have his moment when he sees the man asleep on the couch.

Ram?

“He’s been here since I got home,” Thara grumbles.

King can’t believe what he’s hearing. “And you just let him in?”

Thara scoffs. “Of course not.” He walks towards the kitchen and the senior follows suit. “Duen told him the key code to my door. He left me a voicemail about it, and I legitimately thought it was some joke but nope,” He dramatically gestures at the resting figure, “There he was!” Then quietly grumbles, “He’s been like that since.”

The senior nods, but then realizes that the presence of him and Ram meant there were no more surfaces to sleep on besides. “Where were you?”

“Finishing off my ten-hour shift.” King looks up, where the clock almost mockingly nears noon. His phone screen reflects the time, 11:49, it’s home screen shrouded in notifications asking about his well being.

**gofundme.com/make-ramking-canon (5)**

The name change was Tee’s idea. King had no say in the situation, indirectly having conceded any rejection following his admission of feelings, or at least that was what his friends had claimed.

_ 22:12 _

**bohned**  
@plant baby  
where u at

**wifey**  
we wanna hang out :>

**tee-knee**  
a new boba place opened  
we were gonna raid the menú

**hubby**  
which means i need someone to take care of these himbos

**wifey**  
:<

**hubby**  
what  
you think because we’re dating i’ll excuse you

**bohned**  
kinggggggggg  
join ussssss

**hubby**  
he’s probably just busy

**tee-knee**  
we’ll probs be there a while  
i’ll share my location so you can join !!

There’s a bunch of messages about them attempting to coordinate the orders and how to do it in the most efficient way, as well as a friendly bet about how long it’ll take to make all 37 drinks. Then it goes dead for a little bit, presumably during the time they’ve met up.

_ 00:40 _

**tee-knee**  
king ?  
u good?

**hubby**  
he could just be really busy  
he goes awol all the time

**bohned**  
but it’s different rn  
and i’m worried

**wifey**  
i kinda agree  
he’s been really off lately

**hubby**  
he might just be passed out drunk guys  
i wouldn't worry too much

**wifey**  
:<

**bohned**  
youre not wrong  
but imma head over tomorrow morning  
just in case

**tee-knee**  
update us pls

**bohned**  
y eeee t

Then they seem to become preoccupied again for a few hours until there's another text from Bohn.

_ 02:23 _

**bohned**  
8027392.jpg  
so yeah.

The picture is a screenshot of texts between Bohn and Duen, where the latter is attempting to explain King’s current situation, featuring his best friend’s eloquent and consistent declarations of “What???”

**tee-knee**  
O H

**wifey**  
_@hubby_  
your instincts?

**hubby**  
boss you don’t have to

**wifey**  
flaming garbage

**bohned**  
but he said that we shouldn't go over  
he refused to give me the address

**tee-knee**  
what thats so sus

**hubby**  
could you somehow get it?

**bohned**  
idk duen seemed adamant  
and i don’t see that often 

King smiles to himself at the exchanges; they were nice reminders of his friends and how close they were, albeit a bit excessive at times.

**wifey**  
we could coerce it out of him

**bohned**  
…  
no

**hubby**  
desperate times call for desperate measures.

**bohned**  
NO

**tee-knee**  
might fuck around and  
*hits the woah*  
interrogate my friend’s boyfriend

**bohned**  
N O guyS

There’s also a singular text from Ohm, a request to tell him if he’s fine. That’s what King does, and much more, thanking him for helping him get help and for caring for him so much. The younger replies with, “All in a simp’s work.” It makes himself feel like he has to apologize for not reciprocating his feelings. He does this every time they work together/hang out and coincidingly, Ohm jokingly lectures him; this time is no different. 

When he’s done, his gaze attaches to the tall figure standing before the fridge, scrutinizing every single one of its contacts.

“Has he always been a wandering soul?” King mindlessly asks. 

“Ram?” Thara clarifies. He nods, “Sort of. I don’t know him well enough to know but I do occasionally hear about the chaotic stuff he does. If anything, he’s just well-intentioned.”

King laughs to himself. “Only if he could showcase that better.” He quietly watches the doctor make his choice and pull out a box of what looks to be frozen hot pockets. After taking the two packages out, removing the plastic, and laying them on a large plate, he stuffs it into the microwave. 

“This is your breakfast by the way,” the doctor explains, “God may have blessed me with some skills like this handsome face and having an affinity for science. But cooking was definitely not one of them.

The senior wants to judge him, but he’s only recently had to access to properly cooked food via his new roommate, so he laughs, replying with a simple, “Same.” Plus it’s been a while since he’s had a good frozen meal.

** **** **  


When Ram does rise from his sleep, King is nursing his second cup of water and is failing at acquiring any form of caffeine. He’s even changed out of Thara’s clothes and back into his uniform.

He doesn’t hear the younger rustle but follows the direction of the doctor’s nod. It’s admittedly very cute, him blinking owlishly, rubbing his eyelids, all while his hair sticks out in what looks to be every direction. But for some reason, King doesn’t feel like he should welcome him with open arms. He finds himself taking a few steps closer towards him.

Almost immediately, King is crossing the room to sit next to him. Tears begin to form in his eyes when their eyes meet.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he murmurs, a small smile on his face.

But it’s more of a way for his floodgates to open. “I want to embrace you and celebrate that you’re back,” he admits, “but part of that feels so wrong because you keep these secrets which I totally get, and it messes with my brain, you know? That anxiety can seem to conjure every reason for anything and somehow place the blame on me for anything that goes wrong. And it’s a lot to handle. Because if I want something more, or I guess we, I don’t know if I can go through this again.” It was a lot of behaviors and impulses he hasn’t gone through in a while and he would like for that not to happen again.

Before he knows it, the senior is being pulled into a firm hug. He wraps his arms around the younger and holds him closely like it’s entirely possible (which it is) for him to disappear.

“I’m so sorry,” Ram murmurs into the crook of his neck.

King laughs, somewhat caustically, “I know you are. You said it over the phone.”

The first year holds him far enough just enough so they can see each other clearly. “But that obviously doesn’t make up for it. Duen told me what Bohn told him about you and your constant drinking, and I didn’t know you’d react that adversely. That I was causing you so much stress.”

“No you’re fine,” he insists and casually wipes the tears away with the back of his hand. “I’m just being dramatic.”

Ram rubs at what’s probably a stray tear. “I don’t think so. If you’re so worked up about this, then there’s definitely something wrong. I know I can’t communicate for shit sometimes, but I don’t know, things seem mostly okay. People give me my space when I need it and I can keep my spheres separated, no big deal.”

“I know you’re friends can do it, but I don’t know if I can,” King rambles, staring at how his hand now rests on Ram’s shoulder and their slow wiggling, “I do trust you, but I have these weird thoughts that just posit the possibility of it being my fault. And my therapist was like it sounds like he just does as he wants, which is true and I don’t want to impede on that but when I care so much about you and your well being, my brain cell goes 'oh shit where the hell is Ram why is he gone, did I do a bad' because it feels like I did. And then he goes, 'no you most likely did not because you tell me he has a lot of secrets right?' I said yeah but also started crying because I was frustrated about not knowing.” He spares a look up at the younger, who’s staring at him with the most engrossed expression that King doesn’t know what to do. “What?”

The younger smiles at him sweetly and lightly pets his head. “Part of me really wants to kiss you so you’ll stop rambling, but that feels like it’ll completely invalidate the things you’re feeling and that’s the opposite of what I want to do.”

King shrugs. “I mean I don’t think I would mind that right now.”

Ram shakes his head and gets up while the senior questioningly watches him. The senior takes the outstretched hand that pulls him up and allows him to stand in front of the younger man. He naturally intertwines their hands together, urging a voice in the back of King’s head to tell him that he just wants to stay here forever. He’s coming down from his anxious spiral, the younger serving as an effective calming agent, ironically enough considering he’d been the one to cause it. 

“Maybe later,” the first year states, “You don’t seem to be the most stable right now.”

King can’t help but chuckle at that. “That’s a light way of putting it.” 

“There’s a lot going on,” he states, “I’ll tell you everything when we get home.”

“Yes!” a third voice yells, “Boxer man here probably has nonstick bandages and knows how to dress a wound.” They both seem to suddenly realize that yes, they are intruding on an exhausted medical worker’s home. Thara smiles at them, a mock look of patience clear on his face. “Sorry, I’m just tired.” 

It’s scary enough that they scramble at hyper speed to exit. 

Once the door has closed, Ram takes his hand as they walk away. “I guess we know the temperament is genetic,” he jokes.

** **** **  


They decide to walk home, with the weather being as pleasant as it was and a mutual agreement that the regular fare wasn’t worth paying. But, there was a quiet, mutual acknowledgment of the potential for domestic intimacy. “Have you ever considered therapy?” King asks, swinging their hands between each other. He’s not sure why today everything feels okay, but he mentally concludes there’s no need to hide his feelings. His friends know. And more importantly, the man next to him knows.

Ram’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion, but it’s not necessarily a defensive reaction. “No, not really.”

He nods at the response. “I think it’d maybe be good for you to try.”

“I don’t know why I would,” he states, but it ends more like a question.

The senior nods. It’s something he’s heard time and time again, even when he tells his friends about doing the same. “For me at least,” he relays, “I think it was great it was someone who didn’t know me. I was afraid that everyone would judge me for my feelings and I kept worrying that I was burdening them with my feelings.”

Ram chuckles. “Same. I think that’s why I started boxing.”

“But,” King emphasizes, “I think it helps a lot with just feelings,” he very vaguely describes. “Like talking about personal issues and stressors and things like that.” The younger seems to consider his words. “The physical part of it might help. More athletic people are seen to be happier, but it’s not the proper way of doing things, I think.”

“I don’t know,” he replies, “It’s worked for me for years, so I’m not sure why I would bother changing it now, you know?”

And he does. “I mean, yeah. When I kind of just sat around with my plants and was afraid to go out because they were my only source of happiness, I was completely fine with that. But that doesn’t mean it really is. It’s all about the perspective,” a bout of dejavu suddenly washes over him, “I feel like in these mindsets you focus more on yourself, not that it’s bad, but you’ve become so used to things being fine when you disappear or go do something impulsive, that you’ve normalized it.”

There’s no malice to his question, but Ram asks, “Are you projecting yourself?”

“Maybe a little bit,” he admits sheepishly.

“Well,” the younger man begins, “you aren’t wrong.” The warmth that fills King’s chest is bittersweet; it’s nice that they can bond so closely about something, but he wishes it could be about something more positive.

“So you’ll think about it?”

A sigh. “I’m not sure. If I can’t even open up to my best friend, why would I meet some stranger that’s never met me?”

“The fact that you’ve never met them before,” he immediately replies, “I mean, you don’t care what others think about you, so even if this random medical professional judges you for their feelings, which they won’t, all you really gotta do is tell them how you’re feeling. And they aren’t your friends, so what are you really losing?” And even before Ram can say anything, he continues. “And it doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you. I mean I go to therapy and you don’t think anything’s wrong with me right?” He’s aware he might be talking down to the younger, and it worries him a bit, but then a bright grin appears on his face.

“You’re perfect,” he replies.

“Exactly,” King says. His brain soon catches up with him, and he has to stop himself from saying anything else. 

And the first year smiles even harder, completely ignoring what he’s said. “Ask your therapist for some of their therapist friends and hit me up.”

“I’m pretty sure that isn’t how that works,” King retorts. Ram just loops his arm around the senior’s shoulder as they continue on home. “Are you going to tell me why you left?”

They’re standing at a corner, prepared to cross the street and the younger man presses a kiss to the top of his head. “I’ll tell you literally everything, sweetheart.”

** **** **  


The moment they return, King is pushed onto the couch while the first year disappears into the bedroom, returning with a first aid kit. 

“Let me clean your wound. And then we’ll talk.” Without another word, he sits down behind him and gently fiddles with the bandages. There’s a warning before he rubs anything that’ll sting, said in soft and soothing murmurs. The natural comfort he feels around the younger, mixed with his focus on his phone, helps the time pass quickly.

A little bit of stinging and fresh bandages on his head later, King finds himself sitting in front of a pacing Ram. “Sit down,” he requests, patting the spot next to him. The younger man disregards him, moving back and forth, reflecting his nervous energy. 

“I’ve thought about this a lot,” he starts, “And I think I’m just going to start with why I left and then I’ll just,” he dramatically waves his hand down.

“Is it really that bad?” the senior tentatively asks.

Ram shrugs. “I mean I think it’s more few but serious.”

King scrutinizes him a bit. “I swear if you’ve normalized something absurd.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”

The senior gestures for him to proceed. The first thing he does is drop a thick stack of white cardstock envelopes. He hadn’t realized so many had come. After a few shared stares back and forth, he gingerly reaches to open one of the envelopes.

“The letters started as requests from my dad to come home. I have no idea how he found out where I am, but there it happened. And then he somehow got Pin to write the letters, saying oh you’re dad really isn’t that bad. He loves both of us and has been taking care of us for years. Why would he want to hurt you? We had our own polarized biases, so I didn’t really write anything back to her. Until I realized something that day. Six months ago was around her birthday.”

King quickly picks up on the implication. After months of translating through facial expressions and telepathy, talking- “You’re actually saying words to me,” he gapes.

The first year chuckles. “That’s your takeaway so far?”

“You can’t blame me,” he defends, “This is so uncommon and precious.” His hair is fondly ruffled. 

“I figured that if I want to date someone, and the key to a good relationship is healthy communication, I might as well talk to them,” Ram states, staring directly at King.

Head empty, only Ram being stupid smooth. His awareness eventually returns with a few head shakes, allowing his idea to resurface, “You think they were doing stuff before.”

Ram holds one finger to his nose and points to the senior with his other hand. “Precisely. I decided to ask Pin about it and she denied it, but it was defensive to the point of being incredibly concerning. And I couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility of Pin being a victim as much as my mom. With a little bit of deception on my part, I got her tipsy enough where she did tell me that they fooled around about a year before she and he officially started dating and I was ready to just. Beat him up. I could barely comprehend that he groomed my best friend probably for years. And I tried to explain it to her, but she wouldn’t listen.”

When King reaches his arms out for an open hug, Ram stares at him for a little bit, and ultimately just takes a seat next to him. So the elder wraps his arms around him, resting his chin on his shoulder. He can feel the vibrations of his words through his back. 

“The night I left, I was planning on just meeting up with my brother and to ask how things were at home, but then he practically begged me to come home and stay until our mom’s birthday. It was only a few days, and I couldn’t say no to that. I figured that Pin would probably be there and I was in desperate need of more clothes than the bag I came with, so I agreed. So I came back, stole some flowers, and wrote a note.”

“And of course my mom is shocked that I’ve suddenly returned after a month, but her maternal instincts essentially caused her not to ask about what it was, which was really rough because I really do want to tell her about the man, and think I would have if she asked. But he’s our sole source of income. The man funding my tuition, and Ruj’s tuition. I wouldn’t know what she would do, or any of us for that matter.”

“I don’t know if you should be making that decision for her, but I get it. Security.”

“Being home was nice. Really nostalgic for the first few days because god bless my dad was gone for the next couple of days. Then Ruj and I decided to walk with the dogs, where he asked me many questions, a lot surprisingly about you, but I couldn’t tell him either about what our dad was doing because I was worried about how he would react. I accidentally ran into Pin, who was super happy to have me there. She acted as if her sleeping with my dad wasn’t totally out of the norm. ”

“So I tried my best to act like nothing was going on. Had a small intimate celebration, just the three of us, and I talked to her for a little bit. I’m not the most articulate person but it was a nice conversation, just the two of us. I felt so bad when she seemed really confused and sad when I said I had to leave again. I apologized, but that was really it. Every day I sat by Pin during her restaurant hours, trying to talk her out of dating my dad because he’s my dad and that he’d essentially brainwashed her.”

“Child grooming,” King summarizes, “You know, you couldn’t-” but he doesn’t even get to finish, thoughts being confirmed by Ram’s comment.

“I wish I could have prevented this.”

The senior rests lightly above the younger’s hands. “Nobody assumes their parents have malicious intent. Especially to this extent.”

Ram hums quietly to himself. “I’m thinking about reporting him, but the income.”

“You know how you said you’re working on that communication thing,” the younger nods, “maybe start with your mom. I don’t think you should be making these decisions for her, Cool Boy.”

“I should’ve told her earlier,” he laments.

“Better late than never.”

Ram has brought his hand to his lips. The sensation is small and cushiony against the back of his hand, all too familiar to what he can now confirm to be cheek and forehead kisses whenever he’s asleep. “I should listen to you more often,” the younger jokes, which promptly earns him a firm but also fond slap to the arm. 

“Anything else?” King asks playfully. 

Hands now holding, the younger squeezes as he considers. “My dad being a shitty person by cheating on my mom and grooming my best friend. I was on the national boxing team, but got kicked off.”

“For no good reason,” he supplements.

A fond smile appears on Ram’s face. “Your neighbor Way is my ex-boyfriend and a really popular boxer who wants to beat me up and maybe sleep with me? But also has a restraining order on me.”

King can’t help but agree. “There’s weird tension between the two of you.”

“I mean. I know how to shoot a gun and I have a gun license?” For some reason, images of secret spy Ram flood King’s mind. He can visualize the slick backed hair, the suit, and just an undeniable suaveness to him that make his thoughts run wild.

“I guess that counts.”

“I don’t know if there’s anything more” the younger man continues, “If there is, I hope they surface eventually, but I’m not actively trying to keep anything from you. I promise I’ll be more transparent with you, and I’ll try and plan my disappearances better and tell you as much as I can in advance.” Ram quickly turns around and holds the elder’s cheeks gently in his hands.

“Or you could just not disappear,” King suggests, pulling the hands away from his face, “I mean, maybe it would help just to talk about it with other people?”

“We will do the therapist research, sweetheart,” he concedes, “And then we’ll see what they say about my coping mechanisms.”

King stops to think for a moment. He takes his wrist and drags him to the bedroom. “Let’s go look for one right now.”

There’s no overt protest, but Ram does stop on the way over to wrap his arms around the senior, holding him in place. King can only look up at him, emotion clear and heavy in the other’s eyes.

“Thank you.” And it’s so much like the night before he disappeared, although the room is shot bright with the day outside, and King is painfully sober.

“Are you actually going to tell me why this time?” he teases

Ram presses a light kiss against his forehead. “Helping me through all of this.” Then on his left cheek. “Letting me stay at your place.” Right cheek. “Dealing with my chaos.” The tip of his nose. “Just for everything you’ve done for me.”

It’s all too intimate and stuffy but in an addicting way. King is tempted to chase after his lips, to take what he’s wanted for so long. “I like you,” he whispers, “I really do.”

From their proximity, King can see the subtle way Ram’s eyes widen. “We have to stop having such charged moments whenever one of us is unstable or in an emotional extreme.” King giggles. “You’re so cute, sweetheart,” he murmurs, gently pushing some strands away from his face. 

His gaze flickers down to his mouth, and Ram definitely doesn’t miss that. King can feel his hand trail up to rest at the back of his head as he watches the younger lean down to let their foreheads touch. 

“You’re so slow,” King whines, “Can’t you-”

And quickly enough, his request is fulfilled as Ram pulls him into a tender kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments will be replied to i read em all so expect that,, delayed two week response y'all haha. 
> 
> **also i would appreciate it if you read this note just for some context because i don't want any misunderstandings**  
>  yes hi, i thought it would be up a few hours ago, but here we are, and I ,, wrote the last couple hundred words right now because yes hi yall this is how it be. ngl,, i was thinking about dragging the mental health thing out, with ram saying that he needed his space, and king insisting that doesn't mean he has to disappear off the face of the earth, and inclusion of stigma about therapy and how some people denote it to something being wrong with you, but i also found that the circumstances of ram's situations were so extreme that it felt very possible for him to come to the realization that wow wait something really has been wrong. but i also didn't want there to seem like there's something like codependency, and genuinely, i just wanted to shape king as a worried person with sometimes unhealthy coping mechanisms, which is why he was able to relate to ram so well. here's the thing, emotionally, their relationship might seem a bit weird, especially with the synthesis of platonic concern and romantic emotions in that last third, however in no way is ram trying to mislead king; his intention is to genuinely go to therapy as something to try (I intend to go into this more in the next chapter, but because i don't know when that'll be, i wanted to make that clear now). 
> 
> king, at least in this plot line, has anxiety which is why he reacts the way he does. he might have seen a little neurotic in the beginning, but i feel like he would be a bit conflicted, maybe thinking that he shouldn't care as much as he does, yet seeing that he does frustrates himself, and builds into this cycle of emotions he can't let out. and for ram, he's been used to not confronting his emotions, which is why he runs away from his situations to think about them, when he can. it has worked for him for a long time, his friends normalizing it, but king genuinely isn't sure about it because there seem to be too much to worry about. with that, and how his mother reacted, that's what ultimately contributed to the therapy decision.
> 
> i feel like i have to write this note because as a person who also has anxiety, there's a lot of stuff just to look at and unpack and a world that i hope we can live in where perceptions of therapy can be less stigmatized, but I also get some of this shit is way to romanticized and I'm trying to stray away from it.
> 
> **_if i have accidentally done that, or if something just feels weird about this chapter, please do call me out for it; it's sincerely appreciated._ **
> 
> thank you so much for reading my little (not so little anymore, but) story!! i sincerely appreciate each and every one of you, and thank you for being so accommodating to my life circumstances :>
> 
>   
>  (Lee Changmin (Q) of The Boyz)


	24. **an update but not liek a story update, sorries**

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i wrote a p sweet note because i love yall but, if you don't wanna read, i'm going on a brief (idk a month seems a lil long but) hiatus :>

hihi humans!!

so i think, I'll be taking a break for the rest of the month. i'm really sorry to keep any of you waiting for an update. hopefully, it'll be enough time to collect my thoughts properly and put my all into my grades. (but also if i do end up coming back spontaneously in the middle of this aforementioned hiatus, it was a stroke of genius that randomly came in my mind because that's entirely possible that'll happen lol.) 

i'm a uni student, which i think a lot of you know. my first exam period has already passed, but i have one coming in the next two weeks. i was super banking on like, just getting my degree, coming back home to get a teaching credential, but then my prof emailed me and was like you should try and conducting your own research and writing an honors thesis (yall i didn't even know i qualified or declared that second mAJOR). i've never done research. but hey i have a thesis lowkey ready. if you do find anything about the influence of personal cisgender identity/expression on perceptions of nonbinary individuals and the usage of they/them pronouns, hopefully that'll be me at the top of that paper's name haha. 

and i also have this writing thing i've been doing for a bit, but it's due by early December and i'm only about ten percent. it kind of is nanowrimo but not really because i started a week before November, but yes.

but covid does a lot of things to you haha, like writing,, a 80K some words on an canon divergent fic about my favorite side pairing but also being in a certified **_funk_** for the past two weeks or so and I've been having difficulty garnering up any motivation to write, for which I apologize. 

i say this a lot. but if you've been here since the beginning!! thank you so much for sticking around! i really appreciate reading your comments and the unbridled support you've given me. like seriously. y'all are so understanding and it makes my heart sing in explicable ways. i unconditionally adore all of you :> plant pictures will eventually come i promise (my fig plant recently sprouted a new leaf which was real cute i will say)

i look forward to reading more of your comments when i come back!! 

best,  
hxt_pxckets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll miss all of y'all 💜💜💜

**Author's Note:**

> if you read to the end,, thank you so much!  
> feel free to drop a kudos and/or a comment!!
> 
> [playlist for all title inspos](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/55Zbxwi9JUafehVKWFmvXE?si=_aNXV-8JTnm_g8XNOya_SA) (they do just be kpop title tracks lol)
> 
> yell @ me, befriend me, or both [on tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hxt-pxckets) or [on insta](https://www.instagram.com/hxt_pxckts/)


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